Spectres of the Past
by Side Quest Publications
Summary: We see a part of Spectre's past, learn how he came to suspect the nature of the one called "Tobor"...and discover why he never spoke of it. WARNING: Some chapters now include "suggestive" content.
1. Prologue

**Though I have a couple of other stories floating around in my skull, this should probably be the first StH fanfic posted.  
It serves a couple of purposes: first is that it provides possible answers to a number of questions I (and a few other fans, apparently) have about a certain Guardian—Spectre, to be precise.  
Second is that the main character in my original fiction tends to visit other universes, and I think this particular storyline will be one of the places she finds herself. Thus it allowed me to add this fic to the word count on my NaNo.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Brotherhood of Guardians, and I don't own any of the species or the world in which this takes place.  
I **_**do**_** own the randomly assorted, mostly anonymous characters that find their way into the story, such as Vahti and other members of the Shinobi clan.**

**Note: If you've read the relevant issues of the Knuckles series, you already know what's going on with Tobor and Moritori Rex. So do I. This bit is written up based on what the characters would have known when it takes place, so the names I use are not an accident.**

**Note times 2: Anyone find a canon timeline somewhere? I'd love to be able to just say what year some of these take place or something like that. I mean, there's probably only one chapter where I have it as taking place at a given time (how long after the previous chapter), and even **_**that's**_** an approximation, but I'd still like some kind of timeline.**

* * *

Hawking had left not long ago to continue restoring the Island. There were no serious enemies to speak of, and no disasters loomed that required a Guardian's unique skills. Aside from patrols to provide the figurehead that the people looked for, Tobor expected that his own tenure as Guardian would remain calm while he waited his father's return.

Even the Shinobi Vahti, ever watchful and trained to distrust such calm, had resigned himself to an uneventful assignment.

But the Fates have always had a way of breaking our expectations.

—

When the Dark Legion arrived, Tobor faced their threat with the force of all the Guardians. He and their leader, Moritori Rex, fought back and forth; it seemed the Legion's victory or defeat might be decided by this battle alone.

The battle was beyond the skill of a lone Shinobi, and in the absence of other orders, he left the Guardian to the fight and worked to pull innocents out of the fray.

Thus it was that Vahti was not prepared to intervene when the Guardian and his opponent were blasted into apparent oblivion.

When Hawking returned, he routed the Legion and sent them back to their Zone. But his heart was not on the fight, but on the injuries his son had sustained, and some of the Legion managed to escape.

The Shinobi clan agreed to send more chameleons, to keep an eye on the doings of the Legion during the Guardian's emotional absence.

Vahti continued his watch, but it soon became clear that Tobor would _not_ be the Guardian he once was. Though he was on the mend, his experience had robbed him of much of his command of the Emerald's power. Though he had begun trailing the escaped Legionnaires, even the Brotherhood was not certain that he could ever return to his full duties.

The Bride of Constant Vigil deemed that the chameleons who watched the Legion could also watch his dealings with them. And she ordered Vahti to turn his attention to the next generation.

And so Vahti watched, not the active Guardian as was customary, but a wee bit of a child who the Brotherhood was not even ready to train.

**

* * *

Okay, not much of an intro. Just thought I'd set the stage for **_**why**_** the Shinobi were not, themselves, equipped to handle the situation with Tobor before it came to the aforementioned issues of the comic.  
Not because it was their custom not to interfere or reveal themselves, but because in this, they did not know any more than did the Guardians. They made the same mistake as Hawking.**

**At least in my version; I'd love to see Archie's take on it.**


	2. Eye of the Storm

**I own the chameleons Vahti and Kancho, and any quasi-anonymous figured that are mentioned in passing.  
I own nobody else.**

* * *

Vahti peeked into the boy's room, but the child was already fast asleep. The Shinobi spared a thought for envy; no one of the clan would dare relax his guard that much. But the boy would not have such leisure for long; these Guardians were as suspicious as the clan tended.

_Usually_ as suspicious. Vahti crept around the apartment, keeping an eye out for the source of his unease. That woman, Voni-Ca, had been acting odd since her husband returned. She was as wary as any of the clan might be, and treated her husband as though he were not the echidna she'd married.

Granted, the Guardians did not seem to be very close to their families, at least not by the reports from his predecessors. And after his injuries six years past, Tobor had all but thrown himself into his work, until even the clan would be hard pressed to guess they were wed.

And his parents saw nothing wrong with that, seemed to expect it, even. They accepted that he had been emotionally scarred, and were simply overjoyed that their son was alive. So why did Voni-Ca watch him so closely?

Not for the first time, Vahti wished he dared speak to her. But the echidnas Tobor associated with of late were _former_ Legionnaires, those the clan believed had renounced their ways, and what might only be a lover's quarrel was hardly drastic enough for the Shinobi to reveal himself.

Even when it touched the Guardians.

Tobor returned, quiet, so as not to wake his family. He found his wife awake and waiting; he told her he'd had a meeting, but refused, again, to say with whom.

And again, Voni-Ca, not wishing to wake her son, held her tongue, delaying the argument yet again.

It was as Vahti had seen since Tobor's return, and the Shinobi settled himself just outside the child's room, and closed his eyes to doze.

—

He woke to the feeling of heat. The Shinobi, chameleons that they were, were cold-blooded, and sensitive to the presence of heat. This sensation was mild; it was no surprise that the echidnas had not noticed it.

Vahti investigated the sensation, finally leaving the apartment to discover its source.

And found the next floor in flames.

The fire grew more intense every second; soon Vahti was driven away from the floor, lest he be roasted alive. He rushed back to the Guardian's apartment and into the child's room.

—

"Spectre," a voice hissed, "Spectre, you must wake up."

Something shook the boy awake. "Huh—what?" He blinked and looked around, but he couldn't see anything but a haze.

Spectre climbed out of bed, trying to find what had woken him.

And found himself slammed onto the floor.

"Stay low," the voice hissed next to his ear, "and stay where it is cool. There is a fire downstairs; the flames are spreading quickly, but the smoke is the real danger. You _must_ stay low to avoid the smoke."

Spectre glanced in the direction of the voice—a vague suggestion of a shape in the growing smoke—and nodded.

"Good lad. Do you know how to get out?"

Spectre gulped and shivered. _Did_ he know? He remembered his mother and grandfather teaching him... "I _think_ so, but...I—I'm not sure..."

"Not to worry." The voice sounded like it smiled. "I can help you; I can at least get you to your parents."

With the voice's help, Spectre managed to remember his lessons, and covered his face before trying the door.

Out in the hallway, he turned towards the front door, only to see flames licking around the edges. Not that way.

He turned around and almost ran smack into his mother, coming to find _him_.

"Spectre," she whispered. She glanced up at the front door. "Come, this way." They crawled off towards the back.

—

Vahti hesitated, but Tobor soon joined them. The chameleon decided that the boy's parents could get him out more easily than he could, and forced his way down the stairwell to see if anyone else needed aid.

No good. That next apartment was all in flames. If anyone _was_ still inside, they would have fallen to the smoke.

He eased past the apartment and on down to the next floor. He'd just kicked open one door when—

_KABOOM!_

His head jerked up, searching for the source of the sound. What was _that_?

He left the floor—the explosion had roused the residents, and they did not need his help—and returned to the Guardian's apartment, hoping he had not made a mistake.

—

"Spectre!" Voni-Ca tried desperately to rouse her child. Were the Fates so cruel, to lead them so close to escape only to take her son away?

Spectre and Voni-Ca had become disoriented from the smoke, and she had not stopped to wonder at the room Tobor had brought them to.

There was only one exit—a window too high for Spectre to reach.

Voni-Ca had opened the latches and lifted her son so that he could climb through...

And the window frame had exploded.

Shards of glass had shot through both of them; Spectre had been stunned from the explosion, too dazed to feel the pain as his life dripped away.

"Tobor! You have to do something, _please_! Please, he may be dying—"

"I am sorry, Voni-Ca," Tobor said. "It was not supposed to happen this way."

Voni-Ca glanced up at Tobor, and gasped. "What—what are you doing?"

"It was not supposed to happen this way," he repeated, aiming the gun at her head. "You were _both_ supposed to die."

"Tob—!"

She collapsed before she could scream.

Spectre stared at his father, too dazed to speak or move. But not too dazed for terror.

He whimpered.

"Why couldn't you have stayed in bed?" Tobor asked, aiming the gun at the child. "You _and_ that witch. If you'd just stayed put—" He shook his head. "No matter. They'll never know."

He pulled the trigger—

"_No_!" a voice screamed from behind him.

Something slammed into Tobor, struck his arm, slapped the gun away, just as it went off.

Tobor's eyes darted around the room, but he could not see what had struck him. His gaze rested briefly on Voni-Ca, who'd died instantly, and the boy, who was bleeding out his life. He looked for the gun, but it had slid into the flames, and he did not relish trying to retrieve it.

No matter; the boy would die soon enough, and the fire would eliminate what little evidence remained.

The fire had spread quickly, and the building was falling apart. Tobor shook his head, finally deciding a piece of the ceiling had fallen on him, and he found his way out.

He only hesitated a moment when he saw other forms moving among the flames. Then he recognized the fire-suits, and he dropped to the floor, and let _them_ find _him_.

—

Hawking and Deo had heard the emergency vehicles go by, but Hawking had been following one of the suspected Legionnaires almost to their hideout. Deo was growing anxious, but the Guardian was quite willing to let the authorities do their work, and leave _him_ to do his own.

And then a woman spoke to them.

"Guardian Hawking, your family is in danger. You _must_ go to them."

Hawking jumped, and looked for who had spoken. But there was nobody there! "Aurora?" he said, hesitant.

"You must go to your son," the voice said. "It is his home that they travel to. You must help them while they still live!"

"Deo!" Hawking snapped.

The fire ant teleported them away.

The Shinobi Kancho peered around, ensuring that the Guardian had left. Then she took off at a run.

She was very worried; she hadn't heard from Vahti since before the fire started.

Something was very wrong, and she didn't know what. And for the Shinobi, not knowing was the most frightening thing.

—

Hawking and Deo arrived in front of the building in time to see the firemen escort Tobor out.

Hawking looked around, frantically. There were other survivors, residents from other floors, but where were—

"Tobor!" Hawking followed them to one of the ambulances. "Tobor, where are Voni-Ca and Spectre?"

Tobor blinked up at him, stared through him. "They—" He shook his head. "The fire—spread too quick," he whispered. "I think they're trapped. I couldn't—"

It was soon clear that Tobor was in no condition to tell them anything useful.

"We've still got people in there," one of the firemen said, "looking for survivors."

Hawking nodded.

_KABOOM!_

"What was _that_?" one of the medics shouted.

Hawking turned to stare at the building...at the top floor...at where half the floor _had_ been...at an inferno. "Deo, get me in there!"

"Guardian, be reasonable!" one of the firemen shouted. "Even with proper gear, it's too dangerous—"

"He's right," Deo said. "And by the time you get any gear on—"

"Get me in there, _now_, or I will go in there myself!"

Deo gulped, and nodded, and the two vanished.

Tobor stared at the spot where they'd been.

And smiled.

—

Vahti collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. He pressed one palm against his bleeding chest— _hurts—can't...breathe_ —where the bullet had entered. The bullet meant for the child.

He had no doubt it had entered his lung. Even if he escaped, he would not survive long. Not even if one of the Guardians teleported in.

But why would they? Tobor had just tried to kill his own son; perhaps the other Guardians were of a similar mind. Had Vahti been wrong to save the child?

_No_. He could not think that way. Whatever had happened, whatever Tobor had intended, children were precious to the gods. To take a child's life was among the greatest sins one could commit. To _murder_, to take it without need, greater still, and Tobor had clearly intended murder. Even if the other Guardians should agree with Tobor's actions, it was still such a sin.

And if the Guardians did not agree... Tobor was hardly likely to tell them anything, unless he was inclined to boasting. The Guardians would not know until it was too late.

Vahti forced himself to move, to fulfill his duties. The woman, Voni-Ca, was dead. Tobor had done her that mercy, at least; he had killed her instantly, not letting her suffer from the smoke and flames.

And the boy...

Vahti's eyes widened. The boy still lived! His breathing was ragged, but he _was_ breathing.

Vahti fingered his blade as he checked the boy's pulse. The boy lived, but perhaps not for long. The Shinobi debated on whether he would need to commit that sin, to take the boy's suffering.

But the boy's pulse was strong.

Vahti managed a sigh of relief; he would _not_ need to kill the boy, not yet. Not so long as the boy had a chance to escape.

"Spectre," he rasped, shaking the boy again. "Spectre, you must wake up." He took the boy's shoulder. "Spec—"

Spectre's eyes snapped open. He did not know where he was. He did not know what woke him.

He only knew that he had been attacked, and he was afraid.

He knew he had to defend himself.

—

Hawking and Deo landed just outside Spectre's bedroom, and were immediately driven back by the flames.

"Spec—" Hawking started coughing in the smoke. "Spectre! Von—Voni-Ca!"

The two listened, but all they heard were the firemen continuing _their_ search.

"Sp—"

"You feel that?" Deo interrupted.

Hawking paused. Yes. A buildup of chaos energy.

He ran in the direction it came from.

Some of the firemen searched the same area; one of them began chopping through the wall.

Hawking sensed the surge of energy on the other side, and started to ask Deo to teleport them in.

Then he froze. _Too much!_

"Look out!" Deo cried. He teleported the two of them out of the way, just as the wall exploded.

Two of the firemen were not so lucky; the one who'd been chopping through the wall, and one standing behind, were incinerated in the explosion.

Hawking tried to shield himself from the heat, and peered into the flames.

"_Spectre!_"

The boy was on the other side, in the midst of the flames, but was...untouched, as though in the eye of some great storm. The chaos force surrounded him, pushed the flames back. It was that force, and those flames, that had destroyed the wall.

Those flames that threatened the lives of Spectre's rescuers.

"Spectre! Answer me!"

And Spectre did not seem aware of any of this. He lashed out at _anyone_ who came near.

Hawking ventured a step, then another. "Spectre, _please_! Snap out of it!"

"Hawking..." Deo watched the child, worried. Even the fire ant could not stand a fire this size. They would have to leave.

Soon.

With or without the child.

"Spectre, we're here. We're trying to help you! _Open your eyes_!"

Spectre blinked, and finally focused on them. "Grandpa? Grandpa Hawking?"

"Yes, I'm here. Spectre, I can't—I need to get you out of here, but—" Hawking jumped out of the way of another surge. "I can't get to you!"

Spectre stared at the flames surrounding him, both puzzled and horrified.

Then he _pulled_ the chaos energy back into himself, away from his rescuer.

But once he stopped pushing on the fire, once that pressure was gone, the flames reacted by surging in the opposite direction.

Surging _towards_ the child, converging on him and engulfing him.

"_NO!_" Hawking shrieked.

**

* * *

**

**Poor Vahti. I named him just so I didn't have to keep saying "the Shinobi" this or "the chameleon" that, and he only lasted two chapters (three in the original division).**

**And though she lives, Kancho doesn't get much more of a role, I don't think.**

**My MC in the zone hopping...er, transdimensional...original fiction (my NaNo, titled "Wandering One") plays the part of Kancho, by the way. Up to a certain point, anyway.  
Whether I keep that name in the final product remains to be seen.**

**Again, if you've read the relevant issues of the Knuckles comic series, you know what's going on with Tobor.  
This scene just provides a possible answer to why Voni-Ca didn't know (or in this case, reveal) the truth about him. You **_**do**_** remember that question coming up in canon, don't you?**


	3. Treatment

**Okay, again, I own Kancho, the Constable, and any anonymous mentioned-in-passings. I own nobody else.**

* * *

Hawking stood outside the burn ward, looking in on his grandson. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the child struggle to breathe. Even with the life support, nobody could tell him if Spectre would live.

"I'm sorry," Hawking whispered, though he knew Spectre could not hear him. "I'm so sorry; I couldn't get there in time."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Hawking turned, hoping to see Tobor. But it was the Constable; Hawking growled and turned away.

"It's not your fault," the Constable said. "What happened—you could never have expected it."

Hawking sighed. He did not want to hear yet another well-wisher trying to talk him out of a guilt trip.

The Constable looked around. "I thought Tobor would be staying out here."

"No," Hawking snarled. He slapped the Constable's hand away, resisting the urge to hit something. "I don't understand. It's been _three days_! Tobor checked out just fine; _why_ hasn't he come to see his son?" He shook, anger warring with grief. "He's been...so angry..."

"So were you, six years ago," the Constable replied. "But you didn't lose your wife, and Spectre's fate is nowhere near as certain as Tobor's had been." He frowned. "And maybe he heard..." He shook his head.

"Maybe what? Heard what?"

The Constable bit his lip. "Can I talk to you, Guardian? In private?"

Hawking nodded, and the two went off, neither one aware that they were followed.

Kancho crept behind them, memorizing every word to report back to the Bride.

"Set?" Hawking said.

"I don't know for sure," the Constable replied. "If there _was_ any evidence, it's been wiped clean by the fire. But I'd spoken to the firefighters, and not one of them believes that a natural fire could spread like that."

"Do you have any leads?"

The Constable shook his head. "Like I said, there's no evidence. Just a nagging feeling that something isn't quite right. But I was thinking, if the Guardian Tobor had gotten wind of the idea—"

Hawking nodded. "He might be in quite the vengeful mood. Perhaps it _is_ better that he has not visited."

"Guardian?" The Constable looked at him, puzzled.

Hawking hesitated. "I—I didn't want to tell anyone about this, not until I could be sure what it meant. But if there are others with that suspicion, and it gets out that I've held this information back..."

The Constable waited. And finally, Hawking told him what he'd seen. About Spectre's command of the Chaos Force, and the lives that were lost because of it.

The Constable stood, silently, thinking over this piece of information. He frowned, and finally spoke. "We can't say what happened until your grandson recovers, but I don't believe for a second that boy set those flames. Not on purpose, at least. But if he had anything to do with it..." He shook his head. "No. Nobody can know about this. Not until we know what happened."

"You would withhold possible evidence?" Hawking asked, trying to hide his relief.

"What evidence?" the Constable replied. "In legal terms, what you've told me is barely more than idle speculation. It bears considering, but it isn't a theory we can rely on."

"Thank you," Hawking said.

The Constable left, and Kancho followed Hawking back to the burn ward.

The Shinobi agreed with the Constable's assessment; as far as _she_ was concerned, what the Guardian had revealed was pure hearsay. Only Vahti would know the truth of it, and he had died before he could deliver his report.

—

Kancho paced the hallway outside the burn ward. Her orders had finally come in, leaving her with mixed feelings.

She had begun watching the child since Vahti's death. She was not as experienced as most of the Shinobi present, and she had, technically, broken the rules a number of times in the last week.

So it was with a little anxiety, and no small amount of surprise, that she received the message from the Bride of Constant Vigil. A message instructing her to continue that watch, and to guard the child as _she_ saw fit.

The message left Kancho more nervous than before. The Bride had not said it outright, but the tone implied that she agreed with the Constable's suspicions. The Bride believed the fires had been set.

And the Bride expected Kancho, not to _watch_ the child as was customary, but to _protect_ him as needed.

The clans were a suspicious lot, but did the Bride really expect danger?

Kancho's musing was interrupted by the arrival of a female echidna. A very familiar one.

She frowned, memorizing the echidna's features. _She been out with the ambulance during the fire._ Not surprising, that, since the woman had lived in the apartment below Tobor's. So why was she sneaking around, like she was afraid of being seen?

Kancho tried to remember other details. Yes. She was a nurse here, and her husband was a firefighter—

One of the firefighters who'd died...

Kancho's eyes widened.

It could be nothing...

Then why was she _sneaking_ around?

Kancho followed the woman into the burn ward.

And waited, and watched.

The woman took one more glance around, to be sure no one was watching, and tiptoed up to Spectre's bed. She reached for the IV and pulled a syringe from her pocket—

Kancho launched herself at the woman.

—

The head doctor tried to jump out of his chair, nearly knocking himself over, at the sound of the alarm.

"That's from the burn ward!" he shouted.

Hawking and the Constable looked up in alarm, and raced after the doctor.

_Great Aurora_, Hawking pleaded, _let my grandson be all right._

The doctor rushed into the burn ward, tripping over the nurse as he went. The Constable reached out in time to stop Hawking from doing the same.

Spectre was awake, whimpering, and gasping for air. Hawking rushed to him, hoping to soothe him before he had a chance to tap into the Chaos Force again.

The doctor went to his bed and found the tubes that had been pulled out. "Here we are," he said, putting them back into place. "This must be what triggered the alarm. But how—"

He looked over to see the Constable crouching over the unconscious nurse.

"Looks like someone attacked her," the Constable said. "Recently. Probably when the alarms went off."

"But we didn't pass anyone," Hawking protested. "And there isn't anyone else here—"

"I'll need to check the security cameras," the Constable said. He frowned. "Why was she in here?"

"I ordered her to give the boy another painkiller," the doctor replied. "Wh—"

"This?" the Constable asked, holding up the syringe he'd found under the woman's arm. He handed it to the doctor.

"Yeah, probably."

"Probably?" The Constable lifted an eyebrow. "_Probably_."

"I don't recognize the medicines on sight," the doctor snapped, "but she wouldn't have had another syringe."

"Maybe," the Constable said. "Maybe not."

"What is it?" Hawking asked.

"Remember that _thing_ we were talking about?" the Constable muttered. "That thing we agreed not to talk to anyone else about, not until we had more information?" Hawking nodded, and the Constable gestured at the woman. "Her husband was one of the firefighters. One of the ones who'd died in that..._particular_ blast."

"Ah, whatever happened, we can't give this one to him," the doctor said. "Give me a moment, I'll send the tech for another one."

"When you do," the Constable said, "get that one analyzed."

The doctor froze. "Analyzed, sir?" He gave the Constable a puzzled look.

"To verify what's in it." The doctor opened his mouth, then snapped it shut at the Constable's expression. "Let us err on the side of caution, shall we, doctor? Ease my mind; _prove_ to me that I'm being overcautious."

"There's no such thing as 'overcautious' in this business," the doctor muttered, nodding. "Mine _or_ yours." He handed the syringe to the tech with the Constable's instructions.

A moment after the tech left, Spectre began to shake and whimper again. Hawking turned back to try to soothe him, unaware that the woman had regained her feet.

She stared at Spectre, her rage blinding her to the others in the room. "You _freak_!" she snarled, lunging for the child.

The Constable whipped around and grabbed her before she could take more than two steps.

"Let me go!" She kicked at the Constable, tried to bite and scratch him. "Let me go! That _demon_ killed my husband! He—"

The doctor's eyes widened at her words. He glanced over at the child, shivering in Hawking's arms, then his eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, Constable." He walked over and punched the woman on the jaw, knocking her out again.

The Constable released his arms, letting her fall to the floor. "_Oops_." He looked at the doctor and lifted one eyebrow.

"If you wish to take her in for questioning and let her scream herself hoarse," the doctor said, "by all means, take her. But not here. That _bile_ she was spitting out is hardly conducive to the healing process, don't you think?"

The Constable nodded and dragged her out, almost running into the tech on the way.

The tech watched them leave. His face paled and he turned to the doctor with fear in his eyes. "The syringe you gave me—it's _poison_."

Hawking stared. "Poison? But—"

The tech nodded. "A very effective one. And once it's in the bloodstream, we'd never detect it. Not with all the medicines he's on. We'd be lucky to—" He swallowed. "Lucky to find it...in an autopsy."

The doctor dismissed the shaken tech.

Hawking held Spectre until his trembling subsided and he fell back asleep. "He's safe _now_, though. At least we know to expect—"

"No, Guardian, he's not," the doctor replied. Hawking glanced up at him, and the doctor sighed. "I don't know what you and the Constable were discussing that nobody should know about, but I have to wonder if she knew it, anyway. And with how much she'd been shrieking, how long do you think it will be before the rest of the city knows it?"

"She was angry," Hawking whispered. "_Confused_. He's a child. Most people will understand—"

"All it takes is _one_, Guardian," the doctor replied. "There were many lives lost in that fire. Many families lost their friends and loved ones, and such a mere child as _he_ survived?" He shook his head. "I would like to think that most will know him for another victim, but the Guardians _are_ different; you are something that most people simply _do not_ understand. And there are those who will only want someone to blame. Who better than your grandson?" He sighed. "And all it takes is one," he repeated.

"And you?"

"I will continue to treat him as I must," the doctor replied. "But I do have other patients. Others who may be caught in the cross fire should this happen again." He sighed agaiin. "Guardian, saying this goes against everything I have learned, but if you have any way to take care of him, any way that you can take him away from here, I must ask you to consider it. For him _and_ for my other patients."

Hawking stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Guardian. It is not a good option, but there may be none better."

Hawking nodded. "Deo..."

The fire ant appeared, Hawking gathered up his grandson, and the three of them disappeared.

—

Kancho started swearing under her breath. Of _course_ they'd have to leave after that! Even she couldn't protect the boy very well if them like that woman started coming after him.

But she couldn't protect him at _all_ if she couldn't follow.

At least she knew where they were going. Haven. The "secret" place where the Brotherhood kept their own vigil.

She left the hospital and went to the edge of the city. There, she pressed a button on her watch, activating a device that opened a portal between zones.

She left the city and went to her "home" in Rainbow Valley, found her map of the island, and made her way to the Forbidden Zone.

And Haven.

**

* * *

I do have some ideas rattling inside my brain where Spectre actually reveals to the Brotherhood what he remembers. In one of those ideas, Espio is authorized to provide what information the clan has on the subject; in that particular version, Vahti had collapsed partway through delivering his report, so the clan does know some of what had happened inside the building...just not that "Tobor" was responsible.  
In the "history" version, however, I figured it would work better to say he hadn't delivered a report...just because I wasn't sure how I wanted to do that scene.  
I might change it later****.**

**Oh, that one line where Kancho is thinking "she been out" et cetera. That wasn't a typo. I mean, it was _sort_ of an accident, but I like it, and I'm trying to work out what her speech patterns might be from there.  
**


	4. Haven

**Okay, I own Kancho, and certain mentioned-in-passings. I own nobody else.**

**Feh. I had to track down a Guardian family tree to be sure of names mentioned. Kind of tricky when I hadn't collected the comics in about ten years, and had to dig around in the attic to find where the ones I _had_ collected vanished to.  
**

* * *

Kancho kept an eye on Spectre, safe inside one of the Brotherhood's stasis chambers, when the Brotherhood slept. When Hawking rose and tended to his grandson, she took the opportunity to sleep or to explore Haven.

And though the fire ants kept looking over their shoulders at odd moments, nobody else seemed to know she was there.

She spent two weeks in this manner before she was confident enough to contact the Bride of Constant Vigil with the news.

"Kancho," the Bride greeted her. "How goes the mission? This is not your normal frequency. What has happened?"

Kancho told the Bride about the attack in the hospital, and Hawking's latest attempt to help the child.

"I think it be not working," she finished. "It be more than the fire, Master. Something _else_ be burning the child. This...power they be having. It be burning him, I think, inside. He be strong, but he be not healing."

The Bride frowned and tapped a few keys on her end. "Let the Guardians see these schematics," she said, sending over the files. "They might help. Tell the Brotherhood whatever you must, but make certain they see the files."

"Yes, Master."

Kancho downloaded the files onto Haven's computer and looked them over. _Perfect. These be doing the trick nicely._ They were meant for chameleons, but with a bit of tweaking...

"Hello? Who's there?"

Kancho whirled around and vanished before Hawking could see her.

"I know I heard—" He stopped and looked at the monitor.

"Those plans are a gift from the chameleons," Kancho said, slipping into her role.

His eyes darted around. "Aurora?"

She smiled. It was easy to play the part of a goddess; her first training among the clan was as one of the Voices. And since children were sacred to the Goddess, she doubted _this_ particular entity would object to the deception. Not this time.

"The plans are a _gift_," she repeated.

He finally stopped looking for her, though the fire ants continued to look spooked, and he looked over the plans. "What are they?"

"You know the chameleons are cold blooded. As such, they prefer warm climates. But this is not always to be." She waited to be sure his attention was on the monitor, and pressed a key, causing the images to shift. Hawking jumped when the monitor changed; he hadn't seen the key press. "These plans are of one of the survival suits they use when they require an extended stay in...colder regions."

He shook his head. "But what do they mean by sending these schematics? My lady, what am I to do with _chameleon_ suits?"

She smiled. He would not see it, but he would hear it in her voice. "It is their hope, dear Hawking, that you could adapt the plans to echidna physiology. Or do you truly not see the value in that?"

The implications hit him, and he stared at the screen in a daze. "Yes, my lady," he whispered after a while. "Yes. I believe I do."

—

Tobor barely glanced over the schematics before he dismissed them as a waste of resources. _He_ did not believe his son would live.

What was truly disturbing was that _he_ did not seem disturbed by the thought. But he was still numb from the experience, the Brotherhood believed; he was grieving, and would recover at _his_ pace, and no other.

Still, it was with relief that Hawking saw him off to the Dragon Kingdom.

And with relief that the Bride received Kancho's report; Vahti had not been the only one who felt uneasy around Tobor, and now any of the clan could keep an eye on him, as he thought to keep an eye on their lands.

The rest of the Brotherhood divided up the schematics amongst themselves; the elders set to work converting a part of the sick bay into the steam room described by one set of files, while Hawking took on the task of adapting the survival suit.

There were many obstacles along the way. Though adapting the plans to echidna physiology was a simple task, and though maintaining the necessary level of humidity in the steam room equally so, how would Hawking build the same function into the survival suit?

Kancho went over what the clan knew of the Guardians, but even the solutions the clan offered up, by way of the Voice, provided difficulties.

The Brotherhood puzzled over potential after potential, tried and failed at many possibilities, until finally, a year after the fire, the devices were finished.

—

Mathias wheeled the stasis chamber into the newly built steam room, and fixed it into the new setting.

"Whew!" Jordan exclaimed, panting. "If I didn't know better, I'd think we landed in a rain forest."

Matthias merely gave him a look.

"We need the levels to be close to the chamber, grandfather," Hawking explained for the third time. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his face before continuing. "We cannot force him to adjust too quickly, or else he may be further damaged, beyond recovery."

"Yes, well, I hope you and the boy can forgive me," Jordan replied, "if I feel like retiring to some frozen wasteland when we're done."

Kancho watched, and smirked at Jordan's remark. She didn't know what his problem was; this room was the _best_! Even better than the ones the clan built! Haven had more and better tools at their disposal than the clan, and it showed.

It was only a pity that they needed it for healing purposes. But after Spectre had recovered, maybe he'd want to continue spending time here. And since it was her job to watch him...

She grinned. _No one be telling me be not_ liking _my job._ She glanced over at the chamber, and her smile turned feral. _And I_ really _be enjoying my job when I be finding who burned him._

Hawking tapped a few keys on the chamber's control panel, then he and the other Guardians stood back.

First a few bubbles floated up into the chamber. Then a few more.

Then the chamber began to drain.

When the fluid was gone, the chamber hissed as the vacuum seal released. Mathias stepped forward to open the chamber, and Hawking reached out to help the boy out. Spectre blinked and looked around, blearily, as one who had been asleep for a year and more.

"Gr-grandpa?" Spectre managed through chattering teeth. "Wh-what happened?"

"Never mind that," Hawking whispered, taking the child into his arms. "You're safe now. You're safe."

"How you feeling, lad?" Jordan asked.

"C-cold," Spectre replied, shivering violently. "N-no. F-f-_freezing_."

Jordan frowned. "Freezing?" he muttered. He set the room to go up a few degrees. "In _this_?"

Mathias opened his mouth to snap at his father.

Jordan shook his head before Mathias could speak. "I _do_ know how these things work, son. I know he can't regulate his body temperature. But I also know that the Guardians have always been more...resilient than most. And it's been a year..."

Mathias hesitated, then nodded. "Aye. Even burns as bad as that should have healed after a year in that thing. Granted, he'll be warmer once his fur starts growing back in, but..." He shook his head. "Makes me wonder if we have something else to worry about."

"Like what?" Jordan asked.

Mathias only shrugged.

"Like maybe the Chaos force," Deo said, walking in. "The Council had been sensing a lot of power surrounding him, ever since Hawking and I pulled him from that fire. More power than most living things can handle. It's why we've been warning you against using any, if you can avoid it. I can't rightly say _why_ so much has converged on him," not without telling them what he and Hawking had seen, "but I have to wonder if that's affecting the healing process."

Kancho's smile vanished. She was _not_ happy to hear her theory confirmed.

"So how's that suit coming?" Deo asked.

"I think it will work," Hawking replied. "But I'd like to give him a chance to get used to this place, see how well he does, before we test it."

—

"Well?" Mathias asked Hawking. He peered inside the steam room to see Spectre curled up and weeping.

It had been over a month since the devices were built. The steam room seemed to work just fine, but Spectre refused to touch the suit.

Hawking sighed. "If he doesn't want to wear it, I can't _force_ him to try it."

"He needs to understand—" Mathias began.

"He understands _perfectly_," Hawking snapped. "_He's_ the one who was burned. _He's_ the one who's in pain. _He's_ the one who's been sick ever since. He understands better than _any_ of us ever could!"

Mathias was silent. "That suit may be his only chance to leave that room," he said after a few minutes. "If he understands so well, _why_ would he refuse to try it?"

"I don't know," Hawking said. "I don't—I think he's scared."

"He could die without it, Hawking. He could still die."

"That's my point, father. If someone told you your life depended on something like that, that you only had that one chance to live, how would _you_ feel?"

Mathias stared at the floor.

Hawking sighed. "The chameleons that use that design...they never meant it for a long-term solution." His shoulders slumped. "I just...I just wish we could do something more for him."

"I know," Mathias replied. "It's getting late. Why don't you get some rest? Let him get to sleep?" He lifted a hand to ward off Hawking's protest. "Maybe we'll think of something in the morning."

—

Spectre pulled his head from his arms, and looked around.

He saw something in one corner, and wiped the tears from his eyes to see better. "He—hello? Who are you?"

Kancho looked around, wondering who he was talking to.

"Can you s-peak?" he said.

Kancho tried to orient herself to where he was looking. She started to walk over to where he sat...and froze. His eyes followed her movements. _Be he looking...at_ me_?_

Her eyes widened.

"A-are you...are you a g-ghost? I've h-heard about ghosts, b-but I've n-never seen o-one be-before."

Kancho swallowed. He couldn't be looking at her...could he? She took a deep breath, bracing herself to break the most important rule of the clans. "Be you seeing me?" she asked him.

He nodded, not surprised in the least to hear her. "You d-_do_ speak. Who—"

She walked quickly to where he sat and leaned over him. He shrank away, almost toppling over. "_Be you_ seeing _me_?"

"Y—_yes_. S-sort of. I can't—" He wiped at his eyes again. "I can't s-see what you l-_look_ like, but I can see you standing there..."

She sat back on her heels. _He be seeing me? How?_

"I didn't w-want to say n-nothing, before. I..."

She let herself become visible. "How be you seeing me?"

Now he blinked, surprised. His eyes traced the magical signs etched into her skin. "I—I didn't want to say nothing before. G-granddad and the others d-didn't talk to you, didn't even l-look at you..." He frowned, trying to puzzle over _her_ surprise.

"They be pretending good, or they be not seeing me." She frowned at him. "Being not _able_ seeing me. _You_ being not able. Being not _supposed_ to, anyhow."

His shoulders slumped. "I'm s-sorry. I d-" He sniffed. "I didn't know."

"Be not minding that," she said, waving off his apology. "But you be not telling anyone, not yet." He nodded. "I be thinking about it, be asking the clan about it..._later_." She smiled. "Be talking about something else, now?"

"Like what?"

"Like why you be not touching _that_," she replied, gesturing at the survival suit.

"Oh," he said, making a disgusted noise in his throat. "_That_."

"Yes, _that_. Why be you not trying it?"

"Cause I don't _want_ to." He tried to avoid her gaze, but she continued to eye him, and he sighed. "I just don't feel like it, okay? I..." He shook his head.

"You be not leaving this room without it."

"Then I'll just _stay_ in here," he snapped. This room suited him just fine, but what about the suit? What if it hurt? What if it didn't work? What if it made things worse? He couldn't tell her he was _afraid_ to try it.

Or worse: what if he _deserved_ everything that had happened? He didn't remember the fire that clearly, but he thought he might have hurt someone. And the things that woman said. And the way daddy behaved after...

But he could not hide how he felt from her, from one whose entire _species_ depended upon concealment.

She saw the expressions flicker and flash across his face. A grin slowly formed on her face. "I be knowing why. You being _afraid_."

He looked up at her, warily.

"Afraid," she repeated, nodding her head. "You being _proud_, like peacock. Strut, strut. You being proud, too proud. You being _afraid_ to look silly. But..." She tapped the flat of her blade on his head. "But you be _acting_ silly, instead."

"Silly?" he echoed, staring at her.

She nodded. "Silly. Like little baby peachick."

"Little? _Baby_!" He stood up, and was surprised to discover he stood over her by an inch or two. "I'm bigger than _you_!"

"Quack, quack, little peacock. Your beak be flapping, but no words be coming out. Warble, warble, little peachick." Her grin widened. "_Proud_ little peacock. _Silly_ little peachick."

"_I am_ not _a_ peacock_!_"

He snarled at her, stung. Rather than admit to his real fear, he stomped over to the suit, determined to prove her wrong. He forced the thing on, not even noticing when it passed over his skin.

"_Peacock_, huh?" He glared at her. "You're laughing at me, aren't you? You _do_ think I look silly. But I don't care! Go ahead, _laugh_!"

She grinned. "No. Be not looking silly. Be looking like a _Guardian_. Be looking strong. Smart. _Brave_."

He stared at her, his anger vanishing.

"Be feeling all right?" She helped him to adjust the suit so it fit better, and showed him how to adjust the settings. She had to stand very close to tell if it worked; she could barely tell the steam it generated from the steam in the room. "Be fitting good?"

He nodded, stunned. What had she just done to him? "It's okay, I guess," he said. "I don't...I barely even feel it."

"Being not supposed to," she replied. "You be not needing it when you heal. Soon, I be hoping, but..." She shrugged. "You be wearing that like a second skin, be forgetting you have it. You be doing _everything_ in it. You be not taking it off, unless it be needing mending."

He ducked his head so she wouldn't see him blushing. "You...you really think I was acting silly?"

"You being afraid. Fear be...smart. All things fear. All _smart_ things. Only stupid things being not afraid; stupid things be not living long. But fear being silly, if you be fearing the wrong thing, or be letting your fear act for you." She smiled. "You be acting like a _Guardian_ now. You be doing what you have to. Be making smart decision. Be not worried what others be thinking. Be not letting fear decide. But..." She tapped him again. "Silly be good, too, sometimes."

"Oh," he said. Then he yawned. "Oh...s-sorry."

"Be not minding that," she said. "Be sleeping now?"

"In this?" He tugged at the suit.

She nodded. "Be wearing it like a second skin. Be getting used to it, be not noticing soon."

He nodded. "Oh, okay." He yawned again. "Good night, then." He curled up in a somewhat comfortable position and closed his eyes.

"Good night...little peachick."

He smiled and opened one eye. "Thank you," he whispered, then closed his eye again and fell asleep.

—

In the morning, Hawking came by to look in on is grandson again...

And looked again. And stared.

Spectre was curled up, sleeping as comfortable as possible.

And was wearing the survival suit!

"Mathias!" Hawking called out. "Jordan! Deo! Come quick!"

Hawking tapped out his code on the control panel and went inside.

Spectre woke up and looked up at him. "Grandpa?" he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "G' morning."

"Spectre? How—how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

Hawking hesitated, afraid to touch his grandson.

"It's okay, grandpa," Spectre said, climbing into Hawking's arms. "It doesn't hurt. Not so much, anymore."

Deo and the Brotherhood came running. "What happened?" Mathias asked, eyes wide with alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Hawking replied. He looked up at them, smiling through his tears. "He's all right. He's going to be okay!"

"Grandpa," Spectre said, "why are you crying?"

"Because I'm glad," Hawking whispered. "I'm just glad that you're all right."

"How you doing, lad?" Deo asked.

"I am a little hungry," Spectre replied. He looked up at the Brotherhood. "Can I come out to eat?"

Hawking gave Mathias a questioning glance.

"I don't see why not," Mathias said. To Hawking, he muttered, "We need to see how well that suit works outside."

Hawking nodded. "Of course, Spectre. Of course you can."

**

* * *

Oh, so **_**that's**_** why her speech patterns keep changing.  
**_**Whew**_**! And here I was starting to think it had to do with the writer's skill...**

**Huh. Guess I should've mentioned before that Spectre's hair was almost all burned off.  
There's been some debate on various wikias over whether his hair is black (which could be from the shadows in the helmet) or red. If you look closely at some pics, you can see that it **_**is**_** red, but I'm going to say that a lot of it is black as it grows back in. Besides, a certain someone responsible for the series likes the idea better; something about fitting a spooky motif.**


	5. Trouble with Training

**I own Kancho, and nobody else.**

* * *

The Brotherhood ran multiple tests over the next several days, observed the child's behavior, measured his vital signs.

They reached a consensus that he was, indeed, recovering, and Jordan contacted Tobor to tell him the good news.

"You're wasting my time with _that_ nonsense?" Tobor demanded.

Jordan's jaw dropped. "Nonsense? Your son is—"

"He stopped being my son a long time ago," Tobor snarled. "_My_ son would not kill his own mother."

"_What_? But—but—but—"

"What, you think I haven't heard? That I hadn't sensed what he was capable of?" Tobor smiled, but the expression was not pleasant. "Or did nobody tell _you_?"

"Tell me what?"

"Of course. Father and that meddling Constable. Probably thought they'd keep it to themselves." Tobor's smile vanished. "I'm talking about that boy's _power_. That fire could never have spread like that, not without _his_ help! Those people who died...the neighbors, the firefighters...Voni-Ca..."

"But—_Tobor_—"

"Good_bye_, Jordan."

Tobor shut down his connection, leaving Jordan staring at the monitor where his image had been.

"Hawking?" Jordan called, heading out to where they were eating. "Hawking, can I talk to you?"

"Sure, just a minute—"

"_Now_, Hawking."

Hawking glanced up at him and frowned at the elder's expression; Jordan looked completely spooked. "I'll be right back," he said to Spectre, then joined Jordan in the next room. Mathias followed.

"Uh-oh," Deo said. "I don't like the sound of this."

"What's going on?" Spectre asked.

"It—never mind," Deo replied. "Just finish your breakfast, lad." And he teleported away to join the Brotherhood.

Spectre glanced up where Kancho waited. She nodded, and stopped the door from shutting completely.

And then the shouting began.

The argument went back and forth, though neither side understood the situation any better than the other.

And unknown to the Brotherhood, Spectre and Kancho listened, their eyes growing wider with every word.

"_Why_ would you keep something like that from us?" Jordan finally said.

"Because I didn't want _this_ to happen!" Hawking snapped. "Because we don't _know_ what happened. Great Aurora, it's bad enough _strangers_ are blaming him; he doesn't need it from his _family_!"

"Is that what all that noise in the city is about?" Mathias asked.

"The door is—" Deo said. "Guardians? Hello? The door—"

"There are people calling for us to give—"

Deo gritted his teeth. _Thick headed echidnas!_ he shouted into their minds.

"What was _that_ all about?" Harlan groaned.

"The door," Deo said, "is _open_."

"No," Jordan replied, turning to gesture at the door. "I closed—" He stared. It was open just a crack...just enough for the sound to travel.

Mathias ducked his head out. "He's run off," he said.

"I'm—I'm sorry," Jordan said. "I could've sworn—"

"It's a bit late for that, now," Hawking growled. "Come on!"

They didn't have to look far. Spectre was back in the steam room, curled up and weeping.

"Spectre?" Hawking said.

"Go away!" the child wailed. "My daddy _hates_ me. You all do!"

"How..." Mathias swallowed, and tried again. "How much did you hear?"

"It's my fault," Spectre sobbed. "I killed them. Momma, and the others..."

"_Thank_ you, Jordan," Hawking snarled. "Is there anything _else_ you'd like to discuss in front of him?"

Jordan paled. "I swear—I never meant for him to hear any of that..."

"Like Hawking said," Mathias replied, "it's a bit late to take it back." He groaned. "We don't really know what happened, boy. You were afraid; you had every right to be. And if your power really did...have something to do with it, then that makes it _our_ fault for not seeing that power, your _father's_ fault for not teaching you to control it. All right?"

"And _Hawking's_ fault," Jordan added, trying desperately to shift some of the blame from his own shoulders, "for not warning us so _we_ could begin your training. Which, I suspect, we will want to begin tomorrow."

Kancho leaned over to whisper in Spectre's ear. Deo jumped, sensing something nearby, but there was nothing.

Spectre nodded. "Um...could I speak to Deo?"

"Sure, lad," Deo replied. "What do you need?"

Spectre glanced up at the others. "In private?"

The Brotherhood looked at each other. "Uh...sure?" Deo replied. When the Brotherhood had gone, Deo turned back to the boy. "You know it isn't _really_ your fault. We still don't have any idea what happened—"

Spectre shook his head. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Huh?"

"They were talking about training me. I want to talk about that."

"Uh...I suppose...?" Deo frowned. "What did you need to know?"

Spectre shook his head again. He got up and closed the door, pushing it shut tight until it clicked. Then he looked at an apparently empty spot. "They're gone. You can show yourself, now."

Deo frowned, concerned about the side effects of Spectre's medication, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

But if Spectre was hallucinating, then so was the fire ant, as in the spot where the boy looked, a young chameleon with glowing tattoos appeared.

Deo's eyes widened in shock. "Who—who are _you_? How did you get in here?"

"I be using my _feet_," the chameleon replied with a shrug. "I be walking to the Forbidden Zone, be walking through a wall of flame, be finding myself here."

Spectre cleared his throat. "Deo, this is...uh..." He looked at the chameleon. "I don't think you _gave_ me your name."

She smiled. "You be calling me Kancho."

"Kancho." Spectre nodded. "This is Deo Volente, one of my ancestors' mentors."

"Sit tight," Deo said. "I'll get Hawk—"

"_No_!" Spectre said. "No, you can't. You can't tell anyone about her. Just _listen_ to her, okay? Let her explain herself?"

Deo frowned. "All right," he finally said. "_One_ of you had better explain _something_. What is she doing here?"

"I be helping Spectre," Kancho replied. "Be trying to, anyhow. I be...not able be telling everything, but I be telling you some. Be telling you what you be needing."

"_Hah_! You _admit_ to keeping secrets, but you expect me to trust you?"

"Be the fire ants telling the Guardians everything?" she countered. "Be the Guardians telling their sons and grandsons everything? But they be trusting each other." She frowned, thinking of Tobor. "_Most_ be trusting each other."

"Ouch," Deo replied. "Touché."

"However, I be not _asking_ you be trusting me. Only be asking you be listening."

"Fair enough," Deo said. "Well, miss Kancho, why _are_ you here?"

"My clan be watching the Guardians. Maybe, be not trusting so much. We be wanting preparing, if the Guardians be making a threat to us. But we also be _helping_ the Guardians, if we be needing to."

"Helping _how_?" Deo asked.

"Mostly be stepping up, finding information, be telling the Guardians, or their friends, things they be needing. The Constable be having many speeches with my people, be passing our information along. Spectre...being different." She hesitated, uncertain how to continue.

"Different how?" Deo prompted.

"I be needing more. Be needing doing more. I be telling Hawking be going to the fire. I be stopping that woman from hurting Spectre. I be giving the survival suit to your people. Be letting Spectre hear what Brotherhood be saying." She looked at Spectre, and winced. "Be wishing now I been _not_. If I been knowing what they be saying, I been not opening the door. Be wishing I been not letting him hear _that_."

"I asked you to," Spectre replied quietly.

"Wait, wait, wait," Deo said, holding up his hands. "_Aurora_ told us about the fire and the plans. Granted, she'd said the schematics were a gift from the chameleons, but..."

"My clan be teaching me first being a Voice," she replied. "That is, I can speak differently," she clarified, slipping back into the role, "and sound however I choose, as my role requires."

Deo's jaw dropped. The chameleon sounded _exactly_ like Aurora on those two incidents. Not just the speech patterns, but the _voice_... And that aura she generated when she spoke that way. "That really was you," he whispered.

She gave him a puzzled look. "Be I not saying that?"

"Er...yeah, I...I guess. So what did you need?"

"Be needing be staying with Spectre," she said. "This training...he be leaving, sometimes? You be teleporting him? I be needing be going. You be needing taking me along." Deo wanted to protest, but he kept silent, letting her finish. She shrugged. "You be walking, I be following, being able keeping up. But if you be teleporting, you be moving quickly. Maybe I be not reaching him in time, if there being trouble."

"Makes sense..." He frowned. "But I still don't know."

"I be asking you, let me be doing my job. Be not making it harder."

Deo thought hard over this. Finally he sighed. "All right. I think I can do that. I'll need to keep an eye on you, you understand," though how he'd manage that when she could turn invisible, he had no idea. "But I don't see a problem, so long as _you_ don't make me regret it. I do have one...restriction, however."

"Be there a problem?"

"I'm not the only fire ant the Guardians rely on. Maybe one of the others would take Spectre out for training now and again. I'd _have_ to tell them."

"You be telling your Council, then. There be no problem with that. Just be not telling others; be not telling the Guardians."

"Deal."

—

The next morning, Hawking prepared to take Spectre to the Chamber of the Emerald.

But Deo was hesitant. The fire ant looked around, watching, waiting for something, though he would not say for what.

Spectre looked at him. "I think we're ready," he said.

Hawking lifted an eyebrow, but Deo shook his head before the Guardian could ask.

"You sure?" Deo asked. Spectre nodded. "All right, then, let's get going."

Inside the Chamber, Deo noticed something very peculiar. He still could not see the chameleon...but he could _sense_ her, more than the old feeling of "something's there." And he could see, just out of the corner of his eyes, the markings etched into her skin.

The Chamber filled with similar markings, as though light shined through them from inside her. But Hawking appeared not to notice.

_She says she can feel the emerald_, Spectre thought at Deo. _She doesn't know why, but she thinks it's to do with being a Voice._

_Those tattoos?_ Deo replied.

Spectre nodded slightly. _She says we're not supposed to see them._ He smiled. _Not even when she's visible._

_Guess even her_ clan _doesn't know everything,_ Deo said. He hid his smile, lest Hawking wonder what they were talking about that was more important than the boy's training.

Spectre frowned at him, but chose not to reply.

Which Deo found very interesting. They knew so little about the girl, but Spectre was ready to stick up for her. Which could mean many things. It could be that Spectre sensed something Deo couldn't, that the girl _could_ be trusted...

It may be that Spectre trusted her, as children were apt to do, trusted a fellow child, or trusted the one who had helped and protected him so many times.

Or it might be that she was _very_ good at manipulating them. She had earned their gratitude, but she had _not_ earned their trust. Not yet. And the fire ants had to be ready for anything.

"We're going to start," Hawking was saying, "by bonding you to the Emerald."

Spectre nodded.

"All you have to do," Hawking said, "is place your hands upon the Emerald, and open your heart and your mind..." He demonstrated, sending the impressions telepathically with Deo's help. "Like so."

Spectre swallowed, and walked up the Emerald. Its power surged and flared at his approach, as did the power surrounding _him_.

Hawking frowned, puzzled by the surges.

Spectre placed his hands upon the Emerald...

And its power lashed through him.

_Too much!_ Hawking leaped forward to pull the boy away, but before he could...

The power dissipated. "Spectre?" Hawking said, his voice shaking. "Spectre, are you all right?"

"Y—yes, grandpa," Spectre mumbled. "I—I think so." But the boy trembled violently.

"Deo," Hawking whispered. "What just happened?"

"I'm not sure," the fire ant replied, trying to get a look at Kancho. Some of those tattoos appeared to burn in mid-air, and he could not imagine how Hawking did not see them. But Deo could not see _her_. And he could not speak to her as Spectre did.

He looked up at Hawking. "I think—maybe, because of all the power that's been flowing around him already, the Emerald just...just reacted to that power." He shrugged. "He's bonded now, I can feel _that_. But I think it might be like if...I don't know. Like maybe the Emerald, added to what he's already using, was just too much?"

"You think he couldn't handle that much power?" Hawking asked. "The Emerald has never been a problem for Guardians before. _And_ we've always had access to the Chaos Force."

"Guardians have always bonded to the Emerald _before_ they've learned to tap directly into that Force," Deo countered. "And that was a lot more power than I've seen the rest of you use; I'm beginning to wonder if he can tap into it better than the rest of you can."

Hawking frowned, and looked down at his grandson. "I think," he said, slowly, "that we don't need to take him back here. Not until we get this figured out."

Deo nodded, and teleported all of them back to Haven.

Hawking left Spectre to sleep, and Deo turned to Kancho. To where he _thought_ Kancho was standing. "What did you _do_?"

She appeared. "I be watching him. Be seeing if I need to act." She rubbed at one of the burning tattoos. The others, as near as Deo could tell, had vanished. "You be...spooked. This be not normal." She mentally recited some of her predecessors' reports. "The Emerald been...not reacting this way to others. No?"

"No, it's _not_ normal." He frowned. "So you don't know what happened, either?"

She shook her head. "I be feeling much power. Spectre be touching the Emerald. My skin be itching, I be feeling like lightning be hitting me. Be hitting me, be going into ground." She gestured from her head to her feet, and shrugged. "But be not hurting. Then I be feeling...not so much power."

"I wonder... Kancho, what exactly _is_ a Voice?"

"A Voice be..." She hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. But her job was to protect Spectre. _She_ didn't know what had happened, and she was afraid that withholding information might put him in more danger. "The clan be not interfering, much, with other races. But sometimes, be needing a guide. _Some_ people be wanting hearing gods, but no gods be speaking. So the Voice be stepping in."

"And those tattoos? Are they part of it?"

Kancho nodded. "Signs be needed, be making magic, be making Voice be _seeming_ like gods be speaking through them."

"Like the aura when you spoke as Aurora. Anything else?"

"Like the aura," Kancho agreed.

"How do they get that power? To make people think the gods are speaking?"

"They be taking energy from elsewhere. Extra energy. Ambient, dormant, unneeded."

"Extra...unneeded—" Deo's jaw dropped. "Great Aurora," he whispered. "_You_ siphoned it off...and...and _channeled_ it back into the ground."

She gave him a puzzled look.

He put his head in his hands, groaning.

"What be that meaning?"

"It _means_, young lady, that we need to train _you_, as well."

—

Deo and the other fire ants managed to keep Kancho's presence a secret while they investigated her capabilities.

The training continued without problems. Spectre showed a considerable capacity, not to _tap_ into the Chaos Force, but to _plunge_ into it, to depths that no Guardian before had thought possible. And Kancho continued to siphon off any excess power, lest he hurt himself.

But both did so instinctively, and it was with the fire ants' help that they learned to recognize their abilities. And to control them.

Spectre learned to recognize how much power he grabbed, to take and use only as much as he needed. And Kancho learned to recognize the depths of power swirling around him, and even channel some of that power back into him when needed.

But there were some things that nobody could teach them.

Though Kancho could channel that power, from anywhere and to anywhere, and the fire ants anticipated revealing this skill to the Guardians, she could not _wield_ it as they did.

And Spectre had been damaged by his first use of that power; though he soon wielded it effortlessly, his _body_ never truly healed, and he could never fight as the other Guardians did.

But their training continued, and would have continued without problems.

Until, two years from the day of the fire, Tobor returned.

—

"Have all of you lost your minds?" Tobor shrieked. "How _dare_ you undermine me? Train _my_ son without my permission—"

"Your son?" Jordan repeated. He glanced over to be sure the door was closed. Then he folded his arms and glared at Tobor. "I distinctly recall an old conversation where you all but disowned him. Or did I mishear you?"

Tobor fumed, but he did not answer.

"When have you _ever_ cared to call him _your_ son?" Mathias added. "You have not taken an interest in being his father since your encounter with the Legion. No, he's only been _your_ son when it benefited you; but as soon as something went wrong..."

"_We_ have been teaching him to _control_ his power," Jordan snarled. "As _you_ have refused to do. If you had bothered to pay attention to him, _you_ could have recognized his potential; _you_ could have kept him under control."

"Under control?" Tobor snorted. "Not like you could do anything else. You do not _control_ a fire, grandfather Jordan, you put it out."

Deo seethed at these words. "We have been patient with you since your recovery. But this has gone _far enough_! _We_ will continue to train him, _we_ will continue to teach him to control his power. And since you insist on ignoring _your son_, _you_ will have no say in it, any longer!"

Tobor stared at them. Then his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've—I've felt his power, even as far as the Dragon Kingdom. I've sensed his progress. And I've been...hearing things. The city—the rumors. They won't forget what happened. They won't accept a Guardian who could have started that fire; they won't accept a Guardian who can't control his power without hurting himself, can't fight without it."

"That's _why_ he has to learn," Deo replied. "This training is more crucial for him than any Guardian before."

"They won't accept him," Tobor repeated.

"They _will_," Deo insisted. "Just give him a chance."

—

Tobor stalked off, trying hard to conceal his feelings.

Kancho followed him, to see him messing around on the communication console. But before she could see who he was talking to...

"Spectre!" Hawking yelled.

Kancho whipped around, cursing at herself for leaving the boy alone. She ran back to the steam room to see what was the matter. She did not see Tobor's smile.

"Where is he?" Mathias asked.

"I don't know," Hawking replied, alarmed. "I can't sense him anywhere!"

The Brotherhood split up to look, leaving Deo to go after Tobor.

"Wait!" Kancho called. Deo turned, and she made herself visible. "What be happening?"

Deo thought for a moment before telling her. "We've been working with Spectre on suppressing his power. Only now we can't sense him—"

Kancho smiled. "So he be doing _good_?"

"_Maybe_," Deo replied. "Maybe he's just practicing, and we're all just overreacting. But I'd rather look foolish than find out something bad happened."

"No," Kancho said. She cocked her head, feeling for Spectre's presence. "No, he be not practicing. Be...he be upset. He be hearing what his father be saying."

"Your doing, I suppose?"

"Be _your_ doing," she replied. "He be sensing many things, now. Be might practicing first; he be not needing my help be hearing good." She frowned. "I be thinking...he be not wanting facing his father. He be sensing..._something_. He be like clan. Tobor be making him...on edge. Not easy."

"Then his father is the only one who _can_ deal with—" Deo froze. "Wait. Your _clan_ doesn't trust Tobor? Why? What about your predecessor?"

"Be not knowing," Kancho replied. "Sorry. Only spirit be telling you that."

"Spirit?"

"My partner. Vahti. Been watching Tobor until Legion been attacking. Clan been not knowing if Tobor being Guardian again; Vahti been reassigned, be watching Spectre. I been not hearing him since before the fire."

"The fire?" Deo stared at her. "The same one that—"

Kancho nodded. "He been...not giving report. Been not awake. Not waking, ever."

"And you're saying Spectre doesn't trust his own father," Deo growled. "_Perfect_. So how do we find him?" He thought for a minute. "If I were a nine-year-old boy, and I _didn't_ want to see my father, where would I hide? What would I want?"

"His mother?" Kancho suggested. Deo blinked, and gave her a puzzled look. "Be he not wanting his father, he be wanting his mother?"

"His mother... He's been _here_ for the last two years; he never even got to go to the funeral. Maybe..." Deo nodded. "Come on! I think I might know!"

Deo teleported them out.

**

* * *

Hmm...how much more can I get away with having 'Tobor' say that is **_**technically**_** true, but a lie for all its implications?  
And have I crossed that line somewhere, already?**


	6. Jani Ca

**I own Kancho, the Constable, Joshua and his flunkies (unfortunately), and Jani-Ca and her pals.  
And yes, I chose the name Jani-Ca because I'm lazy. I thought I might change it later, if Archie gets it in gear and reveals the name of a certain figure in the history of the Guardians. However, I came up with a later scene that made me decide to keep it****.**

**Okay, quick note, of particular concern if you're confused by the change in Spectre's behavior from this point on.  
Spectre was about 9 (assuming 7 when the fire happened) in the previous chapter; this chapter begins at that point, with one section that ranges over a course of several years, and then the chapter finishes out the year he turns 23****.  
Why 23? I don't know; I just randomly picked a year when he was an adult...but still quite young.**

**Another note on the changes in his behavior...let's just say Dimitri (and Knuckles, if you've read the relevant issues) isn't the only one to be negatively influenced by an overload of Chaos Energy.  
And 'Tobor' has been going out of his way to make things difficult for young Spectre. His influence has been felt even after the Brotherhood banned him from interfering with Spectre's training.  
The difference is the source of that power, and the type of manipulation ('Tobor' is no Finitevus, though it's a toss-up whether that's good or bad), but my version of Spectre has quite a lot in common with Knuckles.**

* * *

They landed in front of the burned out husk that remained of Spectre's home.

"Be careful," Deo whispered. "The place is still falling apart. They keep talking about rebuilding it, but..."

Kancho nodded. "Be you sensing him?"

"No, not really. But if he's suppressing his power, I wouldn't sense him, anyway."

"Be not teleporting?"

Deo shook his head. "Not without knowing where to look. I'm half afraid it could bring the place down on top of us."

"Then be hoping we find him soon. Or be hoping he being not here."

"Why?"

"There being still...not much water here. The suit be needing water to be making wet air."

They crept through the building, straining their senses for the slightest hint that Spectre was there.

They tried the upper floors, but the damage forced them to look for unusual routes.

"He's been learning to teleport," Deo whispered. "He _could_ have gotten up there without trouble—what are you doing?"

Kancho was digging around in the rubble. "Be seeing something strange." She pulled out her find. "Be not knowing much about buildings. You be knowing this?"

He peered at the little piece of circuitry in her hand, then shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not sure. Although I'd almost say it was—"

She froze. "Quiet," she muttered. "I be hearing voices."

"—my turf," a male voice growled.

"This was my _mother's_ room," Spectre cried.

"Yeah, right," the other voice replied. "Wasn't it the Guardians who lived here? So your _mommy's_ one of them who died in the fire?"

"The way _I_ heard it," a female voice added, "it was their freak kid that started the fire."

Spectre gasped.

Kancho and Deo crept through the rubble until they could see.

Spectre cowered against one wall.

"Why isn't he trying to fight back?" Deo muttered. "Why isn't he _defending_ himself?"

"Be fighting, how? He being...not good fighter, not by muscle. And they be much bigger." It was true; the three echidnas Spectre faced were all children, but even the smallest must have been a third larger than him.

"The Chaos Force—" Deo began.

Kancho shook her head. "Be burning him, still. He be...spooked. Be not good for using power. Be...not working, or be causing more trouble."

But she frowned. She could sense that he was _trying_ to use it...but nothing was happening. As she felt that tingling sensation that suggested _her_ power was active...but she wasn't doing _anything_.

Why?

"Was that you, freak?" the first speaker, the larger male, asked. Spectre only stared at him, and the larger boy grabbed Spectre by the shoulder. "I _asked_ you a _question_, freak. Did you start the fire?"

"N—n—no..."

The boy slammed Spectre into the wall. "You better not be _lying_ to me, freak," he snarled. "There's lots of people who'd pay good money to put you down, if you are."

Spectre started whimpering.

"Be teleporting him now?" Kancho muttered, eyes wide.

"Not without taking them with me," Deo whispered back. "Last time, it was all I could do not to bring the _fire_ along."

"And you be not attacking, without burning." She frowned, and shook her head. "I be not attacking, not while they be holding him. They be hurting him _worse_ if I be moving." Deo gave her a surprised look. She nodded at the shadows. "There be more, watching. They be not seeing me, but they be seeing their gang fighting."

Deo groaned. "I can try to teleport and _then_ attack."

"Must be moving quick, if we be doing that. Only being one chance."

"So we wait?" Deo snarled.

"Being a Shinobi...much is being waiting, and watching." _Be not waiting much,_ she hoped. The survival suit wasn't putting out much steam; they didn't have long before it would shut down.

The other male laughed. "Aw, come off it. This shrimp is no _Guardian_."

The leader looked at him. "No? You don't think so?"

"Yeah, look at this," the other one said. He yanked at the tubes that made up the survival suit.

Spectre started gasping for air.

"The _Guardians_ wouldn't use get-up like this. More likely he's some Dark Legion bastard." He gave the tubes another tug, then released them.

Spectre rolled over, coughing, and fighting to catch his breath.

"Big deal," the leader said. "Plenty would reward—ow! Hey!" He whipped around. "Who threw that? Ow!"

"I did," a voice replied from the shadows.

The smaller of the two males pointed off in the direction of the voice.

The leader turned to look, and stumbled backwards. "G—g—_ghosts_!"

"Maybe they're the people that died here?" the female suggested, eyes wide.

"Leave me alone!" the leader shrieked. "Don't—don't hurt me!" He hid his face, as if that would keep the 'ghosts' from seeing him.

The voice started laughing. "You are just _pathetic_, you know that, Joshua?"

Joshua, the gang leader, peered out from between his fingers. "Huh?" He saw a female echidna, flanked by two dingo pups, and his fear turned into rage. "Knock it off, you two," he said to his gang. "It ain't no _ghosts_, it's just that dingo-loving half breed, Jani-Ca!"

"Dingoes!" Deo hissed. Kancho had to hold him down. "Let me go," he said from under her hand. "This is even worse. He's caught between _two_ gangs, and _that_ one has dingoes!"

"Be quiet!" Kancho muttered. "Before they be hearing you!"

Jani-Ca laughed even harder. "Is that what you call an _insult_? Glad I never counted on _your_ intelligence."

"What do you want?" Joshua snarled at her. "Here to steal my turf?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Since when do I care about your silly gang wars? I just want the kid. I saw him come in, and thought I'd stop you from getting your filthy paws all over him."

Joshua laughed. "_Him_? You sure you want to rescue him? He's trying to tell us he's one of the Guardians."

"So?" one of the dingoes asked. "I thought they were supposed to be the good guys? Unlike _some_ echidnas I could name."

"I thought it was the Guardians that orphaned your flunkies," Joshua said to Jani-Ca, ignoring the dingoes, "and put your family in the poorhouse."

"That's funny," the other dingo muttered. "I could have sworn you'd decided he was a Legionnaire."

"And wasn't it the Legion that put your parents out of their misery?" Joshua countered, still speaking only to Jani-Ca. "So what difference does it make? You don't want to help _him_."

Jani-Ca waved off his protests. "Oh, please. Since when do you care what _I_ think? Why should that stop you from handing him over?" She sneered, and she and the dingoes braced themselves for a fight.

He laughed. "Bad enough you keep sending your weaklings after me, now you expect me to fight a _girl_ and a couple of mutts? I have to have _some_ dignity."

"Dignity?" Jani-Ca echoed. "So dignity is what you call beating on those littler than you? Or did those bruises magically appear after you found him?" She smiled. "You're not too _proud_ to fight me, Joshua. You're _afraid_. You're afraid I'm too much to handle, and you will lose your _dignity_ when you lose the _fight_. That's why you won't hand him over. You're afraid my group will get stronger, yet, until my weaklings can finally walk all over you."

Joshua looked at her, and swallowed.

Then he grabbed Spectre and shoved him at Jani-Ca.

One of the dingoes caught Spectre and helped him to stand.

"Take him," Joshua snarled. "Take him and get out of here. I don't need to waste my time on _weaklings_. But if I see him on my turf again..." He caught Spectre's gaze. "I _will_ send him crying to his mommy."

Spectre cringed and trembled.

Then Jani-Ca and her dingoes took Spectre and left.

"Come on," Kancho muttered.

Deo teleported them back out, and they followed the new gang.

—

They waited until the gang had reached what Kancho deemed a safe distance from the building before appearing.

The group froze. One of the dingoes held on to Spectre, and Jani-Ca and the other crouched, ready to fight.

"Let him—" Deo began, fire building at his mouth.

"Be letting _me_ talk," Kancho said, placing her hand in front of him. "Peachick?"

Spectre struggled in the dingo's arms until he could see who spoke. "Kancho!" He pulled free and wrapped his arms around the chameleon, sobbing onto her shoulder.

Jani-Ca made a gesture, and her group relaxed.

"Peachick, we being very afraid. Grandfathers be wondering where you be going."

"Yeah, _right_," Spectre muttered. "None of them care about me. Not dad, not grandpa." Tears threatened to overwhelm him again. "I just wanted to see momma again. I thought maybe she...maybe _she_ still loved me..."

_It's not like that at all,_ Deo thought at him. _Your father is...he thought he lost you in the fire. He's still upset about that. He's_ confused_, and he doesn't know how to tell you, how to show you how he feels. That's all._

Deo's thoughts had been meant for Spectre alone, and Kancho had not heard him. "_We_ be fearing for you, peachick. We been thinking you been hurt."

"I'm sorry," Spectre muttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Deo watched the other group carefully. "Let's go home. The others are worried—"

"_No_!" Spectre replied. "I can't...not yet."

"But—"

"Hey!" one of the dingoes said. "We didn't rescue him from that idiot just to let someone else grab him. If he doesn't want to go with you, he doesn't _have_ to!"

Deo jumped down from his perch on Kancho's shoulder. "I suppose you think you're going to stop us?" he snarled.

The dingoes bared their fangs. Jani-Ca merely lifted one eyebrow.

"Deo, be...being _quiet_," Kancho said, shaking her head. She forced Spectre to face her. "Suit be needing mending soon, peachick. We be not staying out long."

Spectre sniffed, and nodded. "But I never got to say goodbye."

"Oh..." Deo closed his eyes against the threat of tears. "All you had to do was ask."

—

Deo teleported them to the cemetery where Voni-Ca was buried. He and Kancho stood back, while Spectre approached the gravestone.

Spectre touched the stone, and collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

Deo waited until Spectre cried himself to sleep before contacting the Brotherhood.

Hawking arrived only a few minutes later, and gathered his grandson in his arms.

And Deo teleported all of them back to Haven.

After Hawking put Spectre to bed, Deo told the Guardian an edited version of the day's events, claiming he'd found the boy at the old apartment building and had taken him to his mother's grave; he glossed over the situation between the two gangs and left out Kancho's role entirely.

"I wish he had asked," Hawking said. "He didn't have to run off."

"I know," Deo replied. "But he still thinks..." He shrugged.

"I know that," Hawking growled. "And, _of course_, Tobor left while we were out looking for him. Why doesn't he _realize_ what he's _doing_ to the boy?"

"I wish I knew," Deo replied. But he remembered something Kancho had said. She'd told him her clan didn't trust Tobor...and neither did Spectre.

Why? Was it because of the way Tobor had been acting? Or was there something...else?

—

The Fire Ant Council and the Brotherhood continued to monitor Spectre's progress, though no one tried to speak to Tobor about it again.

He grew stronger and more sure of his power, but his body still did not heal. So when he was not training with the Chaos Force, he pursued other means of strength. He was determined not to become a victim again.

Most of his fur grew in black, making it easy for him to hide in the shadows; even Kancho found it difficult to spot him at times. He considered ways to take advantage of the effect. But how could he conceal himself in the daylight?

He remembered the gang's reaction when that girl had appeared, and decided that nobody would touch him if they thought him a spook. So he fashioned a robe that concealed the survival suit, concealed him within the shadows, but for the steam the suit gave off, enhancing the effect.

And should anyone still be so bold as to strike, armor was needed. He fashioned a helmet that cast further shadows, and protected him from injury.

If the Brotherhood disliked the change in him, they chose not to speak of it, though they watched him nervously.

He did not care. Nor did he care, when Kancho first caught sight of his new attire, that she shot straight up, clinging to the ceiling until he could reassure her. He apologized for frightening her, but some part of him was glad. He refused to examine that part, for fear of what he would find; he told himself only that if she, who knew him for a friend, was frightened by his appearance, then those who sought to hurt him should be terrified.

But that part nagged at him; it was the same part that told him his father blamed _him_ for the fire, that everyone blamed him. That part dismissed what Deo and the others tried to tell him, decided that their hatred was deserved. That part believed that even Kancho had finally turned away, when she had stopped him from using his power against that gang, stopped him from destroying his enemies as he had once destroyed his family.

But that part remained mostly silent, a nagging sensation, always present though he was never aware of it. And he did not speak of his fears again.

Spectre's training continued, until finally, on his twenty-third year, the Brotherhood deemed it time that the young Guardian should take up his responsibilities. Hawking took Spectre to the city to present him to the Constable.

And, if all went well, to the city and the High Council.

—

Hawking spoke with the Constable for a time, then left to take Spectre on his rounds.

Deo stayed behind.

"So how's he doing lately?" the Constable asked.

"I'm not sure," Deo replied. "He's still convinced that the fire is his fault, and—"

"Ah, well, I think I can solve _that_ little problem," the Constable interrupted. "I don't know if you've been keeping tabs, but I think you'll find that the city won't be so quick to blame him anymore."

"Why's that?"

The Constable brought out a small piece of circuitry. "One of my...informants...brought this to me a few years back. Said she'd found it inside the kid's old home."

Deo peered at the device. "This looks familiar..."

The Constable lifted one eyebrow, but did not comment. "A former Legionnaire said it looked like it came from their tech. Identified it as some kind of detonator."

"Detonator?" Deo echoed, eyes wide with alarm.

The Constable nodded, and flopped back down in his chair. "I figure that whole place was rigged to blow. That's the only piece of evidence we have, but it's enough to start a new set of rumors. Now the city's thinking it was some kind of hate crime, that the fire was meant to murder the Guardians. Those that still don't think so..." He shrugged. "They're not talking."

"I guess they wouldn't be," Deo muttered. "How did you find it?"

"Informant found it up near Tobor's old apartment. Given where she picked it up, and what you and Hawking told me, I figure the kid's power made enough of a blast, that whoever tried to bomb the place maybe didn't realize not _all_ of them went off."

Deo frowned. There was something very odd about this... "Your informant...by chance, was she a young chameleon, maybe with an odd manner of speech?" He was about to mention the tattoos, then remembered what Spectre had said; they're not supposed to see them.

The Constable froze. He kept his expression carefully neutral. "That is...one of them," he slowly replied.

"And there's other chameleons, right?"

The Constable nodded, maintaining that neutral gaze.

"Huh. So that part was true, at least. These chameleons...how much do you trust them?"

"I would trust them with all my secrets," the Constable replied. Then he smiled. "Assuming I have any secrets I need to worry about."

"And what about your life? Or the lives of the citizens?"

"I think," the Constable replied, "I should be more concerned that I do not betray _their_ trust." He shivered.

Deo lifted an eyebrow.

"These chameleons—" The Constable looked around, as though afraid something would overhear. He lowered his voice. "Dealing with them has been...a challenge. I don't believe they would hurt anyone if they're not threatened, but it's hard to know what will make them feel that way. And that young female...she's important to them, somehow. To their culture. I'd keep your distance from _her_, at least."

Deo nodded. "I will." And he teleported out to join Hawking and Spectre.

The Constable continued to shiver as he tried not to look at the chameleon glaring at him from the corner.

—

Spectre had been patrolling the city alone, with only Kancho for company, for three weeks.

The citizens tended to avoid him, which suited him just fine. Troublemakers usually ran off after a single glance.

But some were so bold, or so foolish, that they required..._personal_ attention.

"Hey!" a voice cried. "Stop that thief!"

A female echidna went running past him, clutching something to her chest, pursued closely by one with the looks of a thug. Neither appeared to notice him.

Spectre and Kancho followed easily.

The female ducked into an alley, and the thug ran in after her. Spectre saw her throw her package down and begin climbing up the walls. The thug pulled something from his waist and took aim—

_No!_ Spectre's thought was so loud, he was amazed no one heard it. He sent a Chaos Blast at the thug, throwing off his aim. The bullet ricocheted off the walls, sending the girl tumbling to the ground below.

The thug shook his head and grabbed the stunned girl, slamming her into the wall. "Well, what do you know?" he said with a sneer. "First thief I catch, and who do I find, but little Jani-Ca? My boss will _love_ that."

Jani-Ca forced one eye open and looked at her attacker. "Joshua? Someone was stupid enough to hire _you_?"

Spectre's eyes widened at the names.

"Smart enough to hire me off the streets, you mean," Joshua replied. "Smart enough to deal with your kind of trash, and haul you back for him to take care of." He smirked, and eyed the package she'd dropped. "Or maybe I should take care of you myself."

"You'd—" She gasped. He was pressing on her throat. "You'd steal from your own boss? Don't you...think...he'd be mad?" She forced herself to grin.

"He's not going to know, rodent," Joshua snarled. "Ain't nobody here to know that I caught you. Ain't none of your dingoes to hear you scream, and nobody else to care..."

She looked over Joshua's shoulder. "He—_he'll_...know." She tried every dirty trick she knew to pry his hand away, but he knew those same dirty tricks, and her struggles weakened.

"Oh, please," Joshua said with a laugh. "I'm not falling for _that_ lame gag."

"Be that our cue?" Kancho muttered.

Spectre nodded and released an aura of Chaos Energy. The power interacted with the survival suit, and steam _poured_ from beneath his robes.

Steam that appeared to billow like smoke and fill the alley.

Joshua shivered as the humid air brought the temperature down. He saw the steam pouring past him, and he turned to look...

And faced a red-eyed demon in the shadows, flickering with an evil glow.

Joshua didn't even scream. He simply fainted.

Jani-Ca grabbed her package and raced past the 'demon,' ignoring it in her haste to escape.

"That be...not what we be wanting?" Kancho asked.

"Not...quite," Spectre said, letting the power dissipate. "Come on."

"We be leaving him?"

"The EST should have heard the gunshot; they'll find him soon enough." Spectre frowned. "But I can't just let a thief go running off, either."

They found her going into a pawnshop.

They waited outside the door and listened. "There could be others in there," Spectre snarled. "We'll have to wait until she comes out."

"I be looking inside," Kancho said.

Spectre gave her a surprised look, and she just looked back at him.

"What be use of being partners if I being not helping?"

"I can't ask—" Spectre began.

"Good thing I be volunteering, then," Kancho replied, smiling. "You be not needing asking." She shook her head. "I be only listening. Be not acting. Not without help."

Spectre sighed, and nodded.

Kancho crept inside and found a good place to watch and listen.

"More shards?" the shop owner exclaimed, peering over the package. "You know these people will come after you for this."

"These people have been coming after me," Jani-Ca replied, "since before the zones separated. Why should that change now?"

Kancho's skin prickled. She peered around to see a bundle of shards of glass...or gems.

The shop owner shook his head. "You know I don't carry much cash. I can't possibly afford to pay you a smidgen of what these are worth."

Jani-Ca shrugged. "Can you put it on my tab?" She handed him a card.

He sighed, then tapped a few keys on his computer. "Done," he said, handing the card back. "At least nobody looks two ways at charities. Not _yet_."

"Thank _you_," Jani-Ca said, and strolled outside.

Kancho came out and dragged Spectre into the shadows before Jani-Ca saw him.

"What are you doing?" Spectre asked. "She's—"

"Being needing be surviving," Kancho interrupted. "You be wanting finding out? Be following, not catching."

They followed her into another part of town. Spectre looked around; he could have sworn he'd seen dingoes watching them.

Kancho crept off to investigate.

Suddenly, Jani-Ca stopped, and made a gesture.

And a pack of dingoes and echidnas surrounded Spectre.

One of the dingoes stepped forward; Kancho struggled in his arms.

Spectre prepared to call on his power again.

"I have to say," Jani-Ca said, "I really don't like being followed. The chameleon was a nice touch, though. I didn't notice her until I came out of the shop."

"How be you knowing?" Kancho asked.

Jani-Ca shrugged. "When you live like we do, you tend to notice what's going on around you. And when you don't know something, you get answers." She held a knife to Kancho's throat and gave Spectre a meaningful look.

He forced himself to relax his power.

"Huh. Does your boyfriend honestly believe you're that helpless?" Jani-Ca asked Kancho. "Or does he just think he's being chivalrous?"

Kancho squirmed and freed herself from the dingo's grasp. The dingo looked annoyed, but not surprised.

"Being...chivalry," Kancho replied, smiling. Spectre took a step forward. Kancho held up a hand. "We be not fighting," she insisted.

"Then why _did_ you follow me?" Jani-Ca asked. "You can't have been working for that idiot Joshua; he's not smart enough to hire someone like you. And somehow I doubt the crime lords I steal from would ask me to come along quietly."

"I'm not working for _them_," Spectre snarled. "Don't you know who I am?"

Jani-Ca's eyebrow lifted. "Sorry. I don't keep up much on costumed vigilantes."

"But I'm—"

"_We_," Kancho interrupted, giving Spectre a look until he shut up, "be helping you."

Spectre opened his mouth to protest, but something stopped him. Some...feeling. Not from Kancho; something inside himself. Something he'd never felt before.

"Why?" Jani-Ca asked. She gave Spectre an odd look.

"You be telling _us_," Kancho replied. "Why be you stealing? What be you doing with payments?" She shrugged. "I be having an idea, but be wanting you be telling it. Be wanting _him_ be hearing it."

"Fair enough." Jani-Ca cocked her head. "Where should I start?"

—

Spectre and Kancho began to spend time with Jani-Ca and her assorted crew.

Hawking asked him once where he went all the time.

"Seeing friends," Spectre said, shrugging.

Hawking twitched, and looked at Spectre again. "Friends? What kind of friends?" He tried to sound neutral. On the one hand, Spectre had spent so long at Haven, the Brotherhood had despaired of him making friends.

On the other, it meant the wrong sort might find ways to manipulate him; Tobor's actions were certainly proof of that, and Spectre's new personality only increased that concern.

"Oh, just Jani-Ca," Spectre replied. "And her group." He gave Hawking a long look. "Did you know that you split up families with that Zone generator? Some of the echidnas are trapped on the dingoes' side, and there are dingoes on this side, too."

"Jani-Ca," Deo muttered. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"I'm sorry," Hawking replied. "I didn't know that. I was concerned about the city—I hadn't considered how individuals might be affected."

Spectre waved off the apology. "Jani-Ca's family was in business helping both species, but after the zones were separated..." He shrugged again. "She looks out for the left-behinds, tries to keep them safe and fed, and keeps gangs from preying on them." He chose not to mention how she got the money to take care of them.

Deo snapped his fingers. "_Now_ I remember. Wasn't she that little girl you met a while back? She had a couple of dingoes with her, and they spooked that thug into leaving you alone."

Spectre nodded. "That thug was _terrified_ of that little girl. And he still is." He grinned. "Only now, he's got me to deal with, too."

Spectre soon left to continue his work with Jani-Ca's crew, while Deo and Hawking discussed the girl's effect on his behavior.

"It's nothing to worry about," Hawking insisted. "Every young man goes through this; he just hasn't had the opportunity as early as most because he's been at Haven for so long."

"Which opportunity were we talking about?" Deo asked.

Hawking smiled. "The lad's clearly been soultouched."

"Soul...?" Deo thought this over. "I remember the girl. And if half of what he said is even close to the truth, she's not a bad match for him." _And maybe he'll learn to keep his distance from that chameleon._

* * *

**O...kay. Anybody noticing a pattern with how I portray favorite male characters in their childhood? (See early chapters of my TSS "Ships in the Night" for other examples.)  
Weird. I don't know **_**why**_** I do that.  
Though according to my mother, it's really _not_ that weird.  
**


	7. Mind Games

**I own Jani-Ca and her crew, the Constable, and Kancho.**

**A few months pass between the first section and the next in this chapter. That becomes...relevant.  
Eventually.  
But only three of the characters will know why. A fourth (yet to be introduced) might know _part_ of the truth, depending on how I decide to write him...**

**Cosmo-madness (ch 13 review before rewrite), thank you for the review. I have addressed it in detail in the reply function.  
But in case anyone else has similar questions, here is a quick rundown:  
I have a scene or three I'm playing around with that might have such a confrontation. But so far, I've tried to keep things subtle between them. Spectre shouldn't have had any **_**reason**_** to confront "Tobor" yet, aside from general suspicion and bad feelings. But I've come up with something in a later chapter that might do the trick.  
Glad you like Kancho's manner of speech. It's more difficult to manage than one might expect****.  
And finally, chapter length. I try to divide them based on what's happening, so my length may find itself all over the place. I have since begun to swap the deviantArt version with the FFA version, so _this_ should have the longer chapters and dA the shorter ones.**

**But I must wonder: How long would readers prefer?****  
**

* * *

"Be there a problem?" Kancho asked one day.

"I don't know," Spectre replied.

They had helped Jani-Ca's crew sort through some of their belongings. What the crew couldn't use was donated, and the rest rationed out to those who needed it first.

"She's good; she could do amazing things for the city if they could recognize her as anything but a street rat." He shook his head.

"Guardians be giving her status," Kancho replied.

"Not as she is," Spectre insisted. "The only way she could gain from us is if she was one of us. I don't think 'just friends' would be enough."

Kancho froze. She'd anticipated this direction ever since the boy had become soultouched. Half of the chameleon was glad; the other half...

The other half, she tried to ignore. He was a Guardian, and she a Voice of the clan. They had their own responsibilities, their own destinies.

"I'm not sure what to believe anymore," Spectre continued. He snickered. "Of course, I haven't been sure what to believe since the fire, but this..."

His voice sounded different. Kancho turned to look at him, to see that he'd removed his helmet.

And he was giving her an odd look.

She had no time to interpret that look before he embraced her, covering her lips with his own.

She leaned into the embrace.

Then she realized what she was doing, and her eyes snapped open.

Spectre jerked backwards, staring at her. He felt his jaw, gingerly, where she'd punched him. "Kancho...what...?"

"Be. Not. Doing. This," she hissed. "Been. Not. _Asking_. First."

—

They continued to work with Jani-Ca over the next year.

Deo and the Brotherhood assumed this was a good thing, and had decided to give Spectre his privacy. They did not know where he went each day after finishing his work with the crew.

And Jani-Ca's crew did not know it either, though she had some ideas.

—

Spectre wrapped his arms around Kancho and buried his face in her hair.

She moaned and snuggled closer to him. The park wasn't cold, even this late at night, but there was something extraordinarily wonderful about being in his arms.

He moved his legs to accommodate her, tangling himself further in his robes and kicking his helmet aside in the process.

She laughed. "I be saying, you being able doing _anything_ in survival suit, yes?"

"Yes," Spectre whispered. "I remember."

"You be _doubting_ me."

He chuckled. "Not anymore." He started kissing her neck.

"Though I be..." She gasped as he found a ticklish spot. He smiled, and kissed that spot again. "I be...not expecting...be trying..._this_."

His only answer was to chuckle and continue working his way down her neck.

"Brotherhood be wondering where you being?"

"No, they won't. They probably think I'm with Jani-Ca. They think I'm soultouched." He pulled back and leaned on one elbow, smiling at her. "Maybe I _am_."

Kancho's smile turned cold, but he did not give her time to pursue the thought. He yawned, surprising both of them.

"S—sorry," he said, trying to pretend he wasn't tired.

She shook her head. "Be _sleeping_ now."

He blinked at her a few times, then nodded his head and lay back down.

She shifted until she was firmly wrapped in his arms. She had felt a chill at his words, but she tried to tell herself she was overreacting. She almost missed his next words.

"Marry me, Kancho," he said, as he drifted off to sleep.

"We being not able," she whispered. "Clan be not allowing it."

—

In the morning, a monitor flickered to life in Haven.

"Constable?" Hawking said. "What's up?"

The Constable's eyes darted back and forth. "Please, Guardian, I need to speak to Deo Volente. In...in private? It's about...certain of...of my informants."

Hawking's eyebrows shot up, but he only replied, "I don't see why not."

Deo teleported out to join the Constable. "Things can be _private_ with them?"

"Private...ish," the Constable replied. "Since the Guardians don't know..."

"Constable, what's wrong?" Deo peered at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"They're—they're gathering," the Constable said. "They're _angry_ about something. It's been building for several months now. Some cultural thing, I don't know. They didn't bother to explain. But Spectre..."

"Cultural..." Deo started swearing under his breath. "Kancho! He's with _Kancho_! We have to find them! We have to _warn_ them!"

"Do you know where to look?"

"I know where to _start_," Deo replied.

Jani-Ca was reluctant to betray one of her crew, even to them, but when the Constable took her aside to explain the nature of his informants, she was only too happy to give them what they needed.

But when they found Spectre, they found an ambush. The chameleons were determined that _no_ one should interfere.

—

Spectre did not want to offend the older chameleon, but he found it difficult to be respectful _and_ defiant. He settled for the attitude of a student, hoping the chameleon wouldn't continue to try to stare _him_ down.

Kancho kept her eyes on the ground, refusing to look at either of them. "Father, please," she whispered, "please be not doing this."

"Peace, daughter," the older chameleon said. "I will do nothing to him that he has not already done."

Spectre considered the various interpretations of that statement.

He shivered.

"You would wed my daughter?" the chameleon asked. "When you know nothing of our ways?"

"I would learn," Spectre said, dropping his gaze a little. "I would do whatever I must to earn the right to ask her hand."

The chameleon smiled. "The Voices do not age as most chameleons do, nor even as you Guardians do. She is a child, and will continue to be a child even after your grandchildren are old and gone."

"Then she does not have adult status?" Spectre asked. He blanched as he considered the implications of _that_ remark.

"She does," the older chameleon replied. "But the power she wields affects the Voices differently. Only one who can match that power, balance it, is worthy to wed the Voice." Power surged at the chameleon's hands. "You claim to be worthy?"

"Father, _no_!" Kancho stared at him, stared at Spectre, in growing alarm.

"It's all right," Spectre said, looking at her for the first time since the group showed up. "I will do whatever I must to earn the right," he repeated.

The older chameleon glanced over to where Deo and the Constable were being held. He caught their eyes before looking back at Spectre.

The Constable swallowed.

The chameleon placed both palms to the sides of Spectre's head.

Spectre took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and forced himself to relax, to allow that power to flow into him from the chameleon.

"You will never have that right," the chameleon whispered. "_This_ is so you will not ask again."

Spectre's eyes snapped open as he felt what the chameleon meant to do. He sought Kancho's gaze, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The power dissipated, and Spectre collapsed.

The other chameleons released Deo and the Constable, and the two rushed to Spectre's side.

"What did you _do_ to him?" Deo demanded.

"He has had many dreams, many hallucinations, since the fire," the chameleon replied. "We are now but one of them."

One by one, the other chameleons vanished. The older chameleon glared at Kancho, until she turned to Deo, tears spilling from her own eyes, and said, "I be sorry. I be not meaning for this, for things to be this far." And she, too, vanished with her father.

"He doesn't _really_ have that kind of power?" Deo asked. "Does he?"

"He's one of their Voices," the Constable replied. "They use a magic unlike anything I can fathom. I even halfway understand what the _Guardians_ do by comparison."

"They really do love each other," Deo whispered.

"_Did_," the Constable corrected. "If he can do as he said, Spectre won't even remember her after this."

"Then I pray that he was bluffing," Deo replied. "_No_ one should have that kind of power!"

Spectre groaned and cracked open his eyes. "Ow."

"Spec—Spectre, are you all right?" Deo asked. "Do you remember what happened?"

Spectre tried to focus an eye on Deo. "I was going to ask you that. I think I was dreaming again. Last thing I remember is leaving Jani-Ca and the crew. That bully was snooping around again, so I followed him, and..._Jani-Ca_!" He tried to stand. The Constable steadied him before he could fall over. "I should've known better than to run off without her!" He rubbed at a sore spot on the side of his head.

Deo and the Constable traded alarmed looks.

"Easy, lad," Deo said. "The lady can take care of herself."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Spectre replied. "I was trailing _Joshua_. I don't remember what happened; he must've gotten some other thugs to gang up on me. She could get in trouble if she thinks she has to rescue me!"

Deo forced a smile. "Nothing easier, lad." He teleported them to see Jani-Ca's crew, where the Constable swiftly explained to her _exactly_ what had happened.

She frowned. "That is...technically true," she said. "Least up to the part of trailing Joshua. Sounds like this 'Voice' of yours mixed a couple of realities together to make it stick?" She snickered. "Maybe now he won't keep running off on his own."

Deo kept silent; Jani-Ca only knew Spectre for another orphan, another member of her crew. She didn't know that he often disappeared for business with the Guardians.

"You're okay with this?" the Constable asked, surprised.

"Of course I'm not okay with it!" she snarled, trembling with rage. "I'm _furious_! Those two loved each other. I don't care what their culture says, no one has the right to take that away!"

"You and he...you're soultouched, aren't you?" Deo asked.

She waved off the protest. "And that has _what_ to do with it? _They_ didn't need any touch. She's been his _only_ friend for, what'd you say, fifteen years?"

"But he no longer remembers her," the Constable muttered.

"And I'm still second-best," Jani-Ca snapped. "_She_ was his love. That's all that matters."

Deo shook his head. "Second _met_, maybe. But her equal in all the ways that matter." He frowned. "And right now, the only one he can turn to. The only one we can trust to help him through this."

She relaxed a trifle as she allowed her anger to evaporate. "Maybe."

—

Spectre no longer remembered Kancho, except in his dreams. He continued to see other chameleons around, but nobody else saw them, and he thought them products of those dreams.

And like his other dreams, he feared to speak of them to anyone.

He recovered by the next day, with no obvious sign that anything was wrong. The Brotherhood noticed _something_ different, though they could never decide what.

Only Jani-Ca, the Constable and the Fire Ant Council knew better, though even they could not anticipate how deep the change went.

Until one day, after Spectre purchased a ring. He approached Jani-Ca and asked to speak with her privately.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this," he said, "so I'm not going to try any pretty speeches." He took a deep breath. "Jani-Ca, I have been honored to work alongside you. All of you have been the best friends I could ever wish for, and I could never imagine spending my life with anyone else."

Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring. He had not purchased an expensive piece, for fear that she would scold him for wasting money that could be put to more practical use. But it _was_ a beauty of nature, an agate with bands of color that a master artist could not achieve.

Yet it paled to what he saw in her.

"And I would be honored if you would continue to spend that life with me."

Jani-Ca carefully examined his face for any hint of his thoughts. But he showed no sign of deception, no sign that he meant anything but what he said.

No sign that he remembered any friend, nor any love, but her crew.

And she smiled. "Yes. Yes, I will."

Except for the ring, there was no ceremony. Neither cared for formalities, so they went straightaway to the Courthouse to sign the necessary papers.

When they returned to their work that afternoon, some of the crew gave Jani-Ca odd looks. But they waited until they could get her alone before speaking of it.

"What's with him?" one dingo asked. "I thought he was with that chameleon."

"Monogamy's not a big deal to some of us," an echidna replied with a shrug, "and he _has_ been giving you some looks." Then the echidna frowned. "But how come she's not around? She's not okay with it?"

"No," Jani-Ca said. "No, that's not...the problem. The Constable explained things to me. There's...there's been some kind of magic on him."

Another dingo stiffened. "That chameleon put a spell on him? Is _that_ why he's been with her—"

"No!" Jani-Ca said. Great Aurora, that was the _last_ thing she wanted them to think. "But her clan didn't like him being with her, and now..." She stared at the floor. "Now he doesn't even remember she exists."

Silence and stunned looks were their only replies.

"Do we..." The dingo cleared his throat and tried again. "Do _we_ have to forget?"

Jani-Ca nodded. "I think so. The Constable was pretty scared of what these chameleons might do if...if he went against them. Maybe they haven't come after us, _yet_, but..."

"I'm sorry," another dingo said. "This...I don't think any of us like this; it feels too much like _we're_ the ones betraying him. _All_ of us. But if the chameleons are watching him, saying _anything_ might be the real betrayal."

Jani-Ca nodded. The dingo embraced her, and for the first time since she lost her parents, she cried.

The others dispersed to report the news to the rest of the crew while Jani-Ca wept out her heartbreak in the dingo's arms.


	8. Preparations

**I own Jani-Ca and her crew. And whatever quasi-anonymous characters manage to make an appearance. Any anyone that gets sucked into doing someone else's dirty work.  
**

**Maybe another month or three has passed since the previous chapter.**

**Based on a thought of Jani-Ca's partway through to the end, _this_ is the point where I decided to keep her name, regardless of what Archie has to say.  
**

* * *

The crew finished work restoring an old warehouse that they planned to live in. Nobody cared; the owner of that warehouse had disappeared along with most of the dingoes when the zones had separated.

But their funding still came mostly from thefts, and Spectre decided it was time for the next step.

It was time to give the crew a more official, and _legal_, presence in the city.

"What makes you think anyone would care two ways about _us_?" one of the dingoes complained, after Spectre had explained his plan. "Except the sort that'd hire _Joshua_, and we're not about to work for the likes of _them_."

Spectre shook his head. "No. We'd keep doing what we've _always_ been. _Everything_," he added, with a meaningful look at Jani-Ca. "Even the EST is under a lot of pressure to deal with that sort. But with official status, government backing... _Authorization_ to keep at it, and get _paid_ for it?"

"Nobody would give a pack of street rats a second look," one of the echidnas protested.

"The best we could hope for is to get run off before we got two words in," another dingo growled. "The Constable we got now may like us, but you can't expect his replacement to be the same."

"That's _why_ we have to do this _now_," Spectre insisted.

"Sounds good," Jani-Ca said. "It sounds _real_ good, if you could pull it off. And you expect to do that..._how_?"

"I don't," Spectre replied, smiling. "I expect _you_ to pull it off."

"_Right_," she said.

"Jani-Ca, I've _seen_ how you are with the crew. With recruiting people. I _know_ you can do this, I _know_ you have the skills for it. The only thing you need different is to talk to the right people."

"The Constable...?" the second dingo muttered. She shook her head. "Even he doesn't have that kind of power."

Spectre kept his thoughts to himself. The Constable had to answer to the Council, but even his station had a power they did not, the power granted by his association with the Guardians.

But the crew was right; the Constable could speak for them, but his station was temporary. They could not rely on that power.

The crew needed a status all its own, the chance to _earn_ that status. And _that_ was what Spectre wanted.

"And I suppose you know how to meet these people?" Jani-Ca asked. She folded her arms, waiting for his explanation.

Spectre smiled. "Just trust me."

—

Jani-Ca's eyes darted around. She swallowed several times, trying to keep her mouth from going dry.

_How_ had Spectre gotten them into the Council Building? They were not sneaking in as a proper thief would; they'd walked right in, just as if they belonged.

Granted, a good thief wouldn't act like a thief; a _good_ thief would act as if he had every right to be there. But Jani-Ca looked every bit the street rat she was. She looked as out of place here as a Guardian would be on her crew.

And nobody seemed to mind!

Spectre found himself murmuring reassurances to her every few minutes, but she failed to be reassured. Every second, she waited for someone to pay attention to them, to realize they didn't belong, to throw them out.

There were some that eyed Spectre with a measure of distaste; his nervousness around _those_, bizarrely enough, helped her to relax. It meant she was not being paranoid, nor he overconfident. But most of the people were as polite as she could ask. _More_ polite, in fact.

And her confusion only served to make her _more_ nervous; her crew _depended_ on being able to figure things out!

And Spectre seemed...amused by her reaction.

Spectre walked right up to the Council's meeting room and spoke to the echidna at the door.

"I'm afraid I don't have an appointment," he said. "This was rather short notice, but I need to speak with the Council."

The doorman nodded. Jani-Ca was too busy looking around her to hear his reply.

Not even two minutes later, the doorman called to them. "The Council is ready to see you."

"Thank you," Spectre replied, waving Jani-Ca on ahead of him.

The doorman gave Jani-Ca a puzzled look.

"She's never been to the Council Building," Spectre said, waving off any other questions the man might have had.

The doorman simply nodded and opened the door for them.

Inside, Spectre directed Jani-Ca to a seat, but did not yet take one for himself. He bowed to the assembled Councilors. "Good morning, Councilors."

"Good morning, Guardian," the High Councilor replied.

Jani-Ca thought her heart might have skipped a beat. A _Guardian_? Where? But the Councilors focused on Spectre, and she forced herself not to look around.

"And who is this beautiful young lady?" an older female asked.

"Ah, the Lady Jani-Ca is my wife," Spectre replied.

"Oh?" The woman lifted an eyebrow, but her eyes were kind. "I had not heard that you had married."

Spectre laughed, halfway embarrassed. "We didn't...there was nothing formal. We had too much business to deal with."

"And of course," a younger male added, "we echidnas are known for not having a single romantic bone in our bodies."

Some of the Councilors started snickering, but a look from the female quickly shut them up. "And I'd wager the Lady Jani-Ca was not...quite...instructed in the ways of the Guardians, hmm?"

Spectre flushed. "I...I hadn't even told her about...about myself."

The woman gave him a stern look, and his flush deepened. "That would explain her confusion," the woman muttered. She smiled at Jani-Ca with sympathy, and Jani-Ca found herself slowly relaxing.

Relaxing so much, in fact, that she was becoming annoyed that they were talking about her as if she wasn't there.

"But if business is all _that_ urgent," the younger male said, "I gather you did not call us simply to announce your marriage."

"No, sir," Spectre said. "I'm here—_Jani-Ca_ is here—on business. I'm just here for...moral support?"

"Some support," Jani-Ca muttered. Spectre looked back at her, surprised. This was the first she'd spoken since they'd arrived.

He shivered, wishing he _hadn't_ looked; her expression promised revenge for his 'oversight,' revenge of the most imaginative kind. And Jani-Ca could be _quite_ imaginative.

The older female chuckled, but the males in the Council blanched at Jani-Ca's expression. Not one envied the Guardian's present situation.

Jani-Ca gave them her best smile and stood up. "Councilors, I have a proposition for you. Ever since the zones were separated..."

—

"That went well," Spectre said as they left. "Better than I'd hoped."

The look Jani-Ca gave him made him wish he hadn't spoken.

"I did what I promised, didn't I? You have the Council's support—"

"Exactly _how_ long were you planning on letting me sweat over it before you _told_ me?"

Spectre gave a nervous laugh. "I—I kind of wasn't planning on saying _anything_." He flinched at the look she directed at him. _Wrong answer!_

She stalked out of the Council Building.

"Jani-Ca!" He went running after her. "Jani, _please_!"

She refused to look at him.

"Will you please _listen_? Just give me a chance to explain."

She stopped short, and he nearly tripped trying not to run into her. She turned around and faced him, keeping her face carefully neutral. "You have thirty seconds."

"Jani...you're the first real friend I've ever had. And the crew. I would _never_ do anything to hurt you."

Jani-Ca tried not to flinch at the wave of guilt those words gave her; _they_ were keeping a huge secret from him, after all. But they had good reason.

Did he?

He sighed. "You _accepted_ me as a friend, without knowing who I am. I felt like I didn't have to be someone around you. That I could just be me. That I could forget...forget everything that'd happened..."

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

Her anger evaporated. Deo had told her what Spectre had gone through, with the fire, with the things his father had said. Those that blamed him were becoming fewer, but Spectre still felt responsible for the deaths.

And he was still afraid it could happen again.

She'd heard the rumors, but had never quite put the facts together, had never noticed the similarities between that child's situation...and Spectre's.

"Jani-Ca, I'm—"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, surprising him. "I wasn't thinking about what this meant to _you_."

He shook his head. "I shouldn't have kept it from you."

"You had every right to," Jani-Ca countered. "I shouldn't have gotten mad about it." She smiled. "Truce?"

He wiped the tears from his eyes and returned her smile. "Truce."

—

They were almost back to the crew before Jani-Ca thought of something. "What about them? How do you think _they'll_ react?"

And Spectre, who never allowed himself to appear vulnerable, merely looked at her, his eyes begging her for...

Begging for what?

"Okay," Jani-Ca said. "I won't tell them. But you know they're going to find out sooner or later."

"I'll tell them," Spectre replied. "I'll figure something out. Just...not yet?"

"Not yet," Jani-Ca agreed. "But when you tell them, _I_ get to pretend like I didn't know. Deal?"

"Deal."

They walked into the middle of the crew, Jani-Ca flashing a sign for victory.

The crew erupted into cheers, and some of the dingoes lifted her onto their shoulders.

Spectre stood back, letting them enjoy this victory. _He_ had gotten her in to see the Council, but there his role ended. _She_ had been the one to convince them. It was her victory, the crew's victory.

Not his.

"Hey!" Some of the echidnas swarmed around him, pushing him the same way the dingoes had taken Jani-Ca. "What's going on?"

"You two lovebirds had gone off and eloped without telling anyone," one of the dingoes replied.

"We never got to get you a wedding present," an echidna added. "Until now, that is."

"Guys, you really didn't—" Jani-Ca tried to protest.

"And it's only fair if we show our appreciation for all you've done, right?" another dingo said.

The crew deposited the two of them inside the warehouse and paraded them around, finally stopping in front of the main office.

"We're still partitioning off living quarters in the main area," another echidna said, "but we've got your base of operations here."

One of the dingoes smiled. "And since the Council's given us their go-ahead, maybe we can get some proper equipment in here."

"The Council wants to inspect the place," Jani-Ca replied, "check our work and see if it's safe. They were talking about turning one of the new centers over to us; I doubt we'll be living here."

The female dingo shrugged. "If we don't, we don't. We can still probably work out of here." She grinned. "In the _meantime_, we do have...ah...sleeping quarters for you two, back behind the office."

"Sleeping quarters." Jani-Ca lifted one eyebrow. "Am I going to regret asking?"

Another dingo opened the back door, to show a small room. With a mat on the floor for a bed. A large mat, big enough for two people.

"Ain't much," the dingo said, "but it'll do, so long as you don't move around _too_ much."

Jani-Ca slapped her forehead. "You _really_ shouldn't have."

She shook her head, but she and Spectre joined the crew to work on the partitions downstairs until dinnertime.

When night fell, and they tried to take over a couple of the empty partitions with the rest of the crew, the crew patiently, but firmly, directed them back up to the office.

Spectre shook his head, bewildered by the crew's behavior. "They mean well," he finally said. "I think."

"We _are_ married," Jani-Ca added, "but when's the last time we've taken any time to ourselves? Just the two of us?" She shrugged, and started laughing.

Spectre nodded. "They probably thought nothing would happen if they didn't _do_ something about it."

"And you _will_ need an heir."

Spectre froze. "Jani-Ca, you _know_ that's not why I married you!"

"I know," she replied. _But I would have been happy to be your wife for_ only _that,_ she thought, _to let you and Kancho continue being lovers. But her clan wouldn't even let you have that._

"Jani-Ca? Are you...are you all right?"

She shook herself out of her misery. Spectre had been hurt enough by that, though he was not aware of it; he didn't need to see her moping over it. "I'm fine. Just...just tired."

—

The crew continued to grow, to take care of those who had no one to take care of them, to help the Constable and the EST recover stolen artifacts and deal with some of the worst offenders.

And the city loved them.

But as happens with all good leaders, all good causes, there were some that were opposed to the crew. Some that found it distasteful that mere _street rats_ had such increasing power. Echidnas who looked down on the crew for accepting dingoes into their ranks. Gangs who found their territories shrinking.

And Tobor looked upon these dissenters, seeking out the perfect guinea pigs, and watching for any opportunity to present itself.

He considered, and prepared for, many possibilities. He had relied wholly on the fire to kill the spook, and that had failed. And then the Brotherhood had stepped between Tobor and his goal, limiting his ability to manipulate the child. He would not restrict himself in that way again.

He could not kill the spook. The _Guardian_ had grown too strong for that. And too suspicious; any attempt on the spook's life, or on his street rats, would be discovered far too quickly.

But his strength, his unholy command of the Chaos Force, was also his weakness. He had displayed a limited control over that power for a time, but that control had vanished again.

And the spook was still hurting from his mother's death, still believed himself responsible, still felt the assumed hatred of those who cared about him.

And still reacted to that "hatred" by alienating those who wanted only to smooth things over for him.

If Tobor could find a way to use that. Destroy the trust the spook put in these vagabonds, or theirs in him, and finally, destroy him from within...

—

Over the next three seasons, Tobor's people began to spread rumors, designed to undermine the street rats.

Rumors that Jani-Ca had married Spectre solely to gain power, to gain the influence given a Guardian's wife. That she had seduced him, blackmailed him, manipulated him _somehow_, into asking for her hand.

_Spectre_ knew these rumors to be false; Jani-Ca had not known that he _was_ a Guardian until some time after their marriage. But if Tobor should repeat some of these rumors, he could not be to blame. The Brotherhood still tried to limit Tobor's influence over the spook. How was _he_ to know that the rumors were not true?

Indeed, they should be pleased that he took an interest, that he would try to warn them of the danger that Spectre might find himself in. And near as he could tell, these rumors were the first that the Brotherhood even knew of the spook's street rats, or of his recent marriage.

The rumors did not have the results Tobor intended, but it did have some. Though many knew the crew's work for good, those dissenters were given more reason to complain; they _wanted_ reasons to doubt the street rats, and they slowly brought others into their perspective.

The spook, himself, seemed bothered by these rumors, bothered by how people looked upon his street rats.

Bothered enough that it shook his uncertain grasp over the Chaos Force.

And the street rats themselves felt the effects of the rumors; they felt the renewed disdain that the citizens of Echidnaopolis had for them, the fear that someone might send their little card house tumbling down. There had been several attempts to do just that, already.

There had even been one potentially successful assault, when one of Tobor's new minions had injected "the Lady" with an experimental substance that was harmless on its own, but proved to have a _very_ interesting affect when exposed to Chaos energy. Tobor was pleased with that one, and he watched the effects, to consider if it would be worth testing on the spook.

What Tobor could not fathom was that these events, the discovery of the spook's status, did not put the street rats off of him in any visible way. True, they were taught to look up to the Guardians; even those mangy dingoes showed honor to the status.

But that they should not question him, after learning he had kept such a secret from them? Far from that, they appeared _relieved_ to learn it, not as though grateful for the power his status brought them, but as though the discovery absolved _them_ of some powerful guilt.

Tobor did not know what to make of it, and he kept an eye on them, watching for new developments.

And he watched, and waited, until it was time to act again.

—

Jani-Ca accompanied Spectre for emotional support, but now she hung back, waiting for him to finish his visit.

Two of the dingoes stood by, not for emotional support alone, but physical, as well. They let Jani-Ca brace her weight against them as she needed, for she was heavy with child.

She smiled at the irony; echidna tradition held that a girl would have her mother's surname, and paternal grandmother's given name. It was fitting that this tradition should allow the child, if it were female, to be named entirely after Spectre's mother.

If a boy...they had not yet discussed options, and now was not the time. She had another month or two before there would be any true need.

Spectre gave them an anguished look before continuing on to the gravestone. It was not merely his grief that bothered him; his power had begun to surge and flare, ever since the chameleons had taken Kancho away, and his emotions appeared to intensify the effect.

Especially today. For this was the anniversary of the fire, and of his mother's death.

It was not out of any kind of pride or other, but fear for his new family, that he had asked them to stay behind. But Jani-Ca had insisted; she believed the presence of those who loved him might help to keep those emotions in check.

She maintained a firm expression until he looked away. Then she paled, and only the presence of the two dingoes kept her from dropping to her knees.

She could only hope she had not been wrong.

The crew had planned for any situation they could think of, and she had even consulted the fire ant Deo Volente, but there was so little they knew about Spectre's power. So little that even the fire ants knew about the depths of that power.

And for all their preparations, none of them could have planned for Tobor.


	9. Sojourner

**I own Jani-Ca and crew, the Constable, and the various quasi-anonymous characters.  
And nobody else.**

**The confrontation towards the end of section one **_**might**_** not be quite what Cosmo-Madness had in mind.  
See, certain types of scenes, like this one and fight scenes, have an annoying tendency to get lost in translation between my head and the paper or screen.**

**Maybe I'll see if I can revise it later. But this version will have to do for now.**

**On the other hand, I do believe I have (purely by accident) given myself the reason for Spectre's slide into...well, the character presented in canon. My version of him, anyway.  
In spite of Jani-Ca's attempts to keep him happy. And for once, it **_**isn't**_** anything psychological. Not directly.  
More on that later.**

**Section 4, past a certain point, is all telepathic, but because the Fire Ant Council has arranged for it to feel as natural as speaking to the participants, the "public" thoughts and "private" thoughts are still formatted as "spoken" speech or "thought" speech.  
The rest of the sections are divided into spoken or thought as normal.**

* * *

"So, this is your..._wife_," Tobor said, not quite turning the word into a curse.

Let the spook interpret things how he will; let the spook act first. Tobor would not risk that _he_ should be blamed. Not this time.

The street rat and her dingoes eyed Tobor with some apprehension. They knew him for a Guardian, and that he was due their respect, but they remembered that Kancho had never trusted him. And neither had Spectre.

"What do you want, father?" Spectre asked, wearily. He had heard too many strangers say such horrible things about the crew; he did _not_ want to hear it from his family.

"What do you think I want?" Tobor replied. "This is _Voni-Ca's_ grave. Don't you think I have the right to be here, too?"

Spectre sighed. "I'm sorry, father. I've just been...on edge, lately."

Tobor nodded. "You've heard the rumors, I take it?" He glanced at the street rats, and lowered his voice, though not so low that they couldn't hear him. "I know you want to think well of her, but you have to consider, there may be some truth to what people are saying."

Spectre stiffened, and Tobor forced himself not to grin. Any other day, the spook would have walked away from such a remark. But he had proven over the years to...not be at his best, not on this date.

"I did not tell her before," Spectre snarled. "None of them knew."

"Maybe you hadn't told her," Tobor replied, "but do you honestly believe these people will accept that she didn't _know_? That she didn't even suspect? Spectre, you're more intelligent than that!" _But I won't complain if you prove me wrong._

Spectre looked at Tobor. "How do you mean?"

Tobor snorted. "If someone is intent on believing ill of you or...or them," he said, reminding himself not to call them 'street rats' to the spook's face, "they will continue to believe ill. _They_ will shape the facts to fit what they believe, not shape their beliefs to the facts."

Spectre frowned.

"And you may think you can take that rot away from the people," Tobor whispered, "but by denying your..._friends_ that information, you have only given the city another excuse to look down on them."

"What excuse?" Spectre asked sharply.

"Your friends have come to know you as one of them," Tobor replied. "They have learned to respect you, or not, as one of them. They have not learned to give you the respect due your station."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Jani-Ca said, "but we have always shown his station the proper respect." She scowled. "Or are you saying, he is not allowed to simply be my husband when we are alone? Or our friend?"

"The Guardians," Tobor replied, "are Guardians before _everything_ else, even among their families." He forced himself not to growl. The street rat had barely spoken to him, and she already proved too intelligent.

Jani-Ca took a deep breath. She was about to gamble a great deal with Spectre's feelings, and though he would not hate her for it, it _could_ make things worse if it failed. "You are telling me, then, that the Lady Voni-Ca was your subordinate at all times? She was not permitted even to be a wife or mother, to look out for her family _as_ a wife or mother? She was not even due respect as that?"

"My mother was _not_ subord—" Spectre growled. His power snapped around him, threatening to break free of his control.

Tobor's eyes snapped open. Some part of his mind was pleased; though the spook's anger was directed at _him_, the street rat had given him his opening.

"How _dare_ you talk to me that way?" Tobor snarled, with a viciousness that spooked the spook. He could see the uncertainty as the spook flicked his gaze between Tobor and the street rats. "How dare you speak that way, of my wife, of things you know _nothing_ about?" He rose to his feet, and the two dingoes backed off, eyes wide.

"You'll _learn_ what it means to show proper respect," Tobor continued. One of the dingoes tried to pull Jani-Ca back, but Tobor grabbed her arm.

And something inside Spectre _snapped_.

Tobor felt some _thing_ come between them, force them apart, and throw him several feet away.

He looked up at the spook, to see the Chaos Force, flickering and snapping angrily around him, like a living thing, with a will all its own.

The Chaos Force converged on the spook, reacting with that infernal suit until the steam surrounded him, billowed over him, leaving him in shadow that left only the spook's demon red eyes visible.

"Keep. Your. Damn. Hands. Off. My. _Wife_," Spectre snarled, the Chaos Force forming an aura that grew with every word.

Tobor forced himself off the ground and onto his knees. "Or what?" he asked. "Or you'll kill me?" He laughed bitterly. "You've already killed your _mother_, boy, think what people will say if you strike _me_ down. For a street rat, at that."

Spectre flinched at his words. The power flinched, then surged again.

"Is that the way of it, then?" Tobor continued. "You _have_ become one of them. You would sooner destroy your family than show your line the proper honor."

"Honor? _Honor_! _Why_ should I show you honor?" Spectre shrieked. "You have _never_ cared about me! You have _never_ cared to call me your son, your _family_! And now you think I need _your_ approval?" The power snapped, lashed out with every word. "You think you deserve my _honor_!"

He barely heard the two dingoes crying out.

"Maybe mom's death _was_ my fault, maybe I _deserve_ your hatred. But _you_ do _not_ deserve my _honor_. And if you _ever_ touch Jani-Ca again—"

"_I'm_ not the one she has to worry about," Tobor said, trying to sound meek. "Or do you not care which family you destroy?"

"Spectre, _stop_!" one of the dingoes cried. "Please!"

Spectre whirled to face whoever _dared_ interrupt him...and stopped cold.

The dingoes were staring at him, cringing, terrified.

And Jani-Ca...

She was still breathing, but...

His power surged through her, merged with her aura, creating an aura all its own.

An aura that seethed and boiled, like a cloud of some toxic gas.

Spectre shook, realizing what he'd just done. He _pulled_ the power back into himself.

Streams of the toxic aura followed, unnoticed.

He smelled the survival suit, burning as his power clashed with it. Shutting down. Failing.

He no longer cared.

He dropped to the ground. He did not see the triumph flash across Tobor's face.

The world began to turn grey...

"Jani...Ca..."

The last thing he saw was Hawking and Rembrandt rushing towards them.

And then he knew nothing.

—

Jani-Ca slowly opened her eyes, but the world stubbornly remained grey, littered with flashes of red pain.

"Oh, wh'happen?"

"Miss Jani-Ca?" That was the Constable's voice. "How do you feel?"

"How d'you...think I'm..._supposed_ to feel?" she managed through numb lips. The Constable stifled a nervous chuckle. "Where'm'I?"

"You're in the hospital. Your crew has been looking in on you at odd hours; even with the painkillers, I'm surprised _you_, of all people, managed to sleep through it."

"Can't see noth'n."

"Ah, that would be the medicines. The doctors said you should be knocked out for another day." He stifled another chuckle. "I'm wondering if maybe you _haven't_ woken up, yet. Not completely."

"Maybe." She forced herself to focus where his voice was coming from, and finally, she made out a blur that resolved itself into a fuzzy Constable.

She chuckled at the image. "Meds suppose' make me _loopy_?"

"_Possibly_," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I don't 'member you bein' so fuzzy b'fore," she replied.

He blinked several times, then started laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

"_Shush_!" a doctor yelled, wandering by the door and giving the Constable a dirty look. "This is a _sick_ room, for Aurora's sake!"

The Constable gave the doctor an amused look, and the doctor wandered off, muttering something about a loony bin.

The Constable only just managed not to start laughing again.

Jani-Ca listened very carefully. The Constable's laughter sounded forced. Too forced.

She stared up at the ceiling, forcing herself to count the holes in the tiles, while she thought this over. The effort strained her eyes, but she feared she would fall asleep again if she closed them, and she did _not_ want to sleep until she'd figured this out.

Random images flashed through her mind, and she tried to piece them together into some order, some semblance of an answer.

Spectre. His mother. The gravestone.

Tobor. Tobor had said...what?

The rumors. What people were saying about the crew. About _her_.

Ah, Tobor had repeated some of those rumors, had warned Spectre that he could not escape them.

Spectre...had gotten mad. Why? Tobor hadn't actually _done_ anything...had he?

But Spectre didn't have a firm grasp on his temper. Not that day. It would be easy for him to lose it.

"Cons..." She cleared her throat, and tried to force herself to speak more clearly. "Cons—ta—ble?"

"Yes, my lady?"

She refused to be swayed by the deference in his voice. There had been a note of concern there, as well, apprehension that he tried to hide.

"He lost control, didn't he? Of his power?"

The Constable sighed. "Yes, my lady."

"Is he hurt? Or my dingoes..."

The Constable chewed on his lip, uncertain how much to tell her. "My lady, _you_ are still unwell. You should be _resting_."

"_Constable_..."

He sighed. He knew her better than that; her friends always came first. She would not rest until he told her.

"The Guardians tell me he is recovering in that steam room they'd built while they repair the suit. He is...not especially injured, but you _do_ know how critical that suit is. They say it's just until the thing's repaired."

She managed a nod.

"And your dingoes were admitted to the burn ward. But as it was Chaos Energy they were burned with, the Guardians had to step in..."

"_And_...?"

"And...nothing. They've recovered completely; they've been parading through here with the rest of your well-wishers. At least when the doctors aren't around to throw them out."

He winced, waiting for her to make the connection. Waiting for her to ask the obvious question.

She smiled. "Was that really so hard to tell me?" Then she frowned. "Unless...there's something else wrong, isn't there?"

"Jani-Ca..." The Constable sighed. "I know you. I know what type of person you are."

Jani-Ca started to growl; this did _not_ sound like it was leading to an answer.

He shook his head, ignoring the growl. "You think you can't rest until all the world's problems are solved. That it would be...blasphemous, or irresponsible, or...or something, I don't know, for you to take a break. But this is one problem you _can't solve_. And if you _don't_ let yourself get some rest, things will only get worse."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning, you are not to ask me again. Not until you've recovered." He groaned. "Even then, I'm not so sure it's my place to tell you."

"Better from a friend, I would think," the doctor said, returning, "than a stranger. I'd rather you hear it from the Constable or your crew. But he is right that you need your rest." He held up a syringe. "And your crew has agreed to let me take steps to ensure that you do, provided I stop throwing them out."

She glared at the doctor, and at the crew peering in at her. Her crew, who had turned traitor out of concern for her.

"_Fine_," she snarled. "But I _expect_ to continue this conversation in the morning."

—

True to her word, Jani-Ca was up and moving around the next morning.

The doctors were impressed at her progress. She cited sheer willpower.

The crew cited sheer stubbornness.

"Stubborn as an echidna," one of the doctors replied, earning a laugh from the dingoes.

But the doctors were not ready to release her, nor were the Guardians ready to let Spectre see her.

"You may feel fine," Tobor said, "but they still want to run some tests. We're not completely certain what's wrong with—" He snapped his mouth shut, refusing to finish the sentence.

"Wrong with what?" Jani-Ca demanded. She found it odd that _Tobor_ was the one looking in on her—he hadn't done anything that she knew of, but she didn't trust him any more than the chameleons had—and this only increased her irritation.

"You were exposed to what we think _should_ have been lethal levels of Chaos Energy," Deo explained.

Jani-Ca blinked; she had never seen him and Tobor in the same place before.

"And while we're all glad that it _wasn't_," the fire ant continued, "nobody's exactly sure why. Or more importantly, why your two dingoes have recovered, but you haven't. You _haven't_," he repeated, cutting off her protest. "And the Guardians want to keep an eye on you until you do."

"And I suppose taking me to Haven is out of the question?" she snapped. Guardians or not, Tobor's earlier remarks about respect still grated at her, and she didn't feel like being particularly respectful right now.

No answer appeared forthcoming. She snorted. "Of course it would be. I'm not a Guardian; why _would_ you take me there?"

"That's...not..._exactly_ the problem," Deo finally said. "We would, except..."

"Then what is the problem?" she snarled. "Except _what_? _Why_ won't you let me see my husband?"

Deo stared at the floor.

"It isn't that you can't see him," Tobor replied. "It's that Spectre...isn't allowed to see you, just yet."

Jani-Ca glared at him. "Why? Do you think he'll _attack_ me?" she snapped. "Destroy his family?"

_Spectre has never really been right since the fire,_ Deo thought at her. _And after what the chameleons did to him..._

Tobor flushed. "He is not in the right mind," he said, in an unconscious echo of Deo's warning. "And while you may have been strong enough under other circumstances..."

He gestured to her stomach.

Jani-Ca looked down, noticing the scar for the first time.

On her stomach, which _should_ have been huge, but looked like nothing so much as a deflated balloon.

She sat down on the bed, _hard_. "I still had a month," she whispered. "At least."

The Constable put a hand on her shoulder. "You would both have died, otherwise. It was the only way they could save you. But..." He sighed. "They couldn't save the egg." He looked around at the room, then finally plunged into the rest of the bad news. "Nobody seems to know what's wrong. The only thing they _do_ know is that...that you won't be able to have another child."

—

The Constable sighed. "I am _not_ looking forward to this conversation."

"None of us are," Deo replied. "It's far too soon to question her. But if there's even a chance she remembers—"

They had delivered the news yesterday. Jani-Ca, true to her nature, refused to let herself grieve for what could never be, until she was reassured about her friends and family.

But they could _not_ give her that reassurance, not until they could understand what had happened.

The Constable nodded. He knocked on the door. "Lady Jani-Ca? Deo Volente and I would like to speak to you."

"Come in," she replied.

The doctor glared at them as they entered. "If you disturb my patient," he said before walking out the door, "I will be _most_ displeased."

The Constable shuddered.

"Problem?" Deo asked.

"Just advice. There are some people that you never want angry at you. A doctor is one of them."

Deo nodded. He held up his hand before anyone else could speak. _Before we begin, I must ask that both of you speak as little as possible. There have been too many things that_ nobody _should know, things we have sworn to keep secret, that the city has still managed to find out._

The Constable gave Deo a questioning look.

_Other fire ants have joined me,_ Deo replied to the Constable's question. _We should be able to mediate this discussion, so that it can feel as natural as possible without either of you uttering one syllable._

Jani-Ca nodded. "Not that I'm not glad to see you," she thought at them, "but why do I assume you're not hear for another round of well-wishing?"

The Constable blinked once at hearing her thoughts, then shook it off. "As much as I'd like to be here for moral support," he replied, "I'm afraid I have a job to do." He sat down and flipped open his notebook.

Jani-Ca's frown deepened. "And what has that to do with me? Why should that job prevent me from seeing my husband?"

"I think you know why," Deo said. "We need to know what happened. Tobor told us his side. And your two dingoes...they don't remember it, exactly."

"They've made it clear what they _want_ to believe," the Constable continued, "but they couldn't offer up a single clear memory, a single shred of evidence for...for anything. We were hoping you could tell us something useful."

Jani-Ca hesitated. She did _not_ want the answer, but she made herself ask. "I guess...maybe I understand why Deo is here," she said to the Constable, "but what does it have to do with you? Why are _you_ here? _As_ the Constable, I mean."

"To determine if a crime has been committed," the Constable replied. "To determine...if _Spectre_ has committed a crime."

"He _wouldn't_," Jani-Ca snapped. "You _know_ my husband is a good man. He would _never_—"

"If he has not _willfully_ committed a crime," Deo replied, "then we must consider something...worse."

"What could be _worse_ than calling Spectre a criminal?"

"Spectre has not been in the right mind for a long time," Deo said.

"Well, no. Not after the clan—"

Deo shook his head. "No. They've made it worse, but this has been going on since the fire." He sighed. "And while none of us agree with Tobor's _methods_, there are some that wonder if he had the right idea, after all. If maybe we shouldn't have trained Spectre; if we shouldn't have allowed him to join the Guardians."

Jani-Ca could not comprehend _what_ he was talking about. And the fire ant did not seem ready to explain.

Finally she nodded. "I'll...I'll try to remember." _Let me remember,_ she prayed. _Let me give them what they need; let it be what my_ husband _needs._

So she told them what she remembered of the event, beginning with Spectre's anxiety as he'd prepared to visit the grave, to their irritation when Tobor had approached.

And what she remembered of the conversation that followed.

Her heart sank with every word. Though she gave them the answers they asked for, she _knew_ it was not what they wanted to hear. She just wasn't quite sure why.

Neither the Constable nor Deo were willing to look at her.

"It sounds like what Tobor had said," Deo replied. "He could...Spectre could have overreacted...?"

She frowned at his tone. It _sounded_ like they were disappointed that she had confirmed Tobor's witness. If she'd contradicted him...would they have taken her word over his? But she'd told them what she remembered; anything else would have been a lie.

The Constable shook his head. "A man with a gun may overreact. That he didn't mean to shoot doesn't make his victims any less dead." He looked at Jani-Ca. "Could you tell us again what happened, _just_ before Spectre attacked?"

"You mean their argument?" Deo nodded, and she reflected back on what she remembered, what she had already told them. She shrugged. "Tobor didn't think we were respectful enough, that the _city_ wouldn't think we were respectful enough. That the crew didn't respect the Guardians. That we didn't respect Spectre _as_ a Guardian. He said..."

She bit her lip, trying to remember _exactly_ what had happened. "Tobor grabbed my arm and said...I _think_ he said that we'd learn to show proper respect." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't remember anything more...until I woke up here."

The Constable's eyes snapped open.

Deo stared at her. "Tobor never mentioned _that_ part," he muttered.

"How did he say it?" the Constable asked.

"I don't—I don't remember. Why?"

Deo traded a glance with the Constable.

"I _could_ have Spectre arrested if this had all been about losing his temper," the Constable replied. "The Guardians are powerful enough to _be_ deadly weapons, and you and your dingoes were threatened by his behavior. But this..." He shook his head.

Deo nodded. "If he honestly thought he was protecting you," he added, "that would mean there was no _criminal_ activity, but..."

"Protecting me? From _what_? Wait, you think Tobor was _threatening_ me?"

"I think," Deo slowly replied, "that in Spectre's state of mind, _he_ could well have believed that Tobor was threatening you. Your dingoes certainly thought he was trying to protect you." Deo and the Constable traded another glance.

"Okay, will you two _stop_ with the mysterious looks, and tell me _why_ that's such a bad thing?" She flushed, realizing what she was implying. "I mean, besides—" She stammered and gestured at herself. "Besides the way it turned out?"

"Lady," the Constable began. "You said Guardian Tobor had grabbed your arm. Did he hurt you?"

Jani-Ca blinked. "I—I don't think so."

"And what he said about learning respect...how did he say it? How did he sound? How do you think he felt?"

Jani-Ca threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know. It didn't sound threatening to me, but..." She shrugged.

"I _might_ be able to help there," Deo said. "If you will let me."

"Help...how?" Jani-Ca asked.

"By _showing_ your memories. It's not a perfect technique," the fire ant warned. "I can't show anything you don't actually remember. If I could, I would have used it on Spectre a long time ago; he never would have had to deal with the side effects or...or the clan."

"But if I don't remember," Jani-Ca asked, "how does it help now?"

"Just because you don't _consciously_ remember," Deo replied, "doesn't mean there's no memory for me to find. There may be...something of use."

She thought about this for exactly four seconds, then nodded.

Deo looked at the Constable, and the Constable nodded.

Deo played the memory for them, the last few seconds that Jani-Ca had witnessed, up until Spectre's power had forced Tobor away from her.

Though the scene came from Jani-Ca's memory, the fire ant arranged it so that they could watch as bystanders, and he played it from several angles before they could be satisfied.

But whatever they hoped to find, it wasn't there.

"There was no threat," Deo said. "Spectre attacked his father...over nothing." The fire ant put his head in his hands.

"Nothing?" the Constable replied. "Maybe to us, _now_. But if someone had said that to _my_ wife, I'd certainly interpret it as a threat. And Spectre has never been at his best, not on that day." He hesitated, realizing he was trying to talk himself out of doing his job.

"_You_ don't have the ability to kill someone by waving a hand at him," Deo countered. "The Guardians are supposed to be more disciplined than that. And to use that much power, to endanger the one he was _trying_ to protect..."

"What's the Brotherhood's consensus?" the Constable asked.

Deo gave him a wry look. "The Brotherhood is carefully trying to avoid coming to this exact conclusion."

"Can you _blame_ them?" the Constable muttered. He sighed and snapped his notebook shut. "This isn't my area. You need a doctor's expertise, not mine."

Jani-Ca felt like her heart might have stopped. "Why do you say that?" she hissed. She looked between him and the fire ant. _Something_ was going on, something that both of them were trying very carefully to avoid saying.

They cringed; both of them had forgotten she could hear them.

"What _exactly_ is wrong with my husband?" She glowered at them, her eyes _demanding_ an answer.

"We still don't know anything—" Deo said, trying to placate her.

"The Brotherhood still needs to run more tests—" the Constable added. They gave each other alarmed looks.

It slowly dawned on her what they were suggesting. "You think Spectre is _insane_." She stared at the two, trying to convince herself that _they_ had gone crazy.

"We have to consider the possibility," Deo whispered. "Jani-Ca, please, I don't want to believe it. None of us do. But if we let our discomfort..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "If we refuse to examine even the _possibility_—even if it's wrong, we'd still only be doing him a disservice."

_Even if it's wrong._ Those words chilled Jani-Ca to the bone. They didn't want to believe it...but it was what they believed.

Jani-Ca kept on staring. But she could not convince herself that they were anything but serious.

—

The Constable stayed behind to keep an eye on Jani-Ca, and Deo teleported back to Haven. He watched the young Guardian, unconscious within the stasis chamber, and looking just as vulnerable as when he was taken from the fire, before he forced himself to report what they'd learned.

He did not tell them what he and the Constable had decided; he preferred that the Brotherhood would arrive at the conclusion on their own.

He _preferred_ that they would arrive at some other conclusion entirely, but the Powers That Be denied him even this small comfort.

"There appears to be a slight change in his brainwaves," Tobor said. "It isn't _much_ of one, but _any_ change in an organ that complex is cause for concern."

Deo tried not to stare. The change...could it be because of the chameleons? What their elder Voice had done to him?

"The strange thing is," Rembrandt said, "it seems to be fairly recent." He gestured at the monitor by the stasis chamber.

"Recent?" the fire ant repeated. "How so?"

Harlan nodded. "We'd been keeping an eye on his brainwaves, to see how much those medicines are affecting him. We thought that might have..." He glanced at Hawking, and decided not to finish the thought. "Whatever this is, it's formed over the last couple of days." He glared at Tobor. "Like, say, the anniversary of his mother's death?"

"That recent?" Deo asked, confused. Then it wasn't because of the chameleons. Not in the end.

Did Tobor simply push Spectre over the edge?

Tobor ducked the glare the older Guardian gave him. "He's been building up to this for some time," Tobor said. "Maybe I _was_ the straw that broke the camel's back, but that camel's been carrying a heavy load for years."

Harlan grunted and looked away. As much as they resented Tobor's methods, he could not disagree with the man. Not about _that_.

"Maybe if you'd bothered to act like his _father_," Mathias growled, "you would have known this was happening. Or maybe it _wouldn't_ have happened!"

"Father, enough," Hawking said, speaking for the first time. "A distant parent simply does _not_ cause insanity."

"Nobody knows what causes it," Jordan muttered.

"At least _half_ of us would be insane, if it did," Rembrandt countered.

"And _we've_ all given Spectre what Tobor neglected," Hawking continued, as if he had not been interrupted, "and not one of us saw it coming. So can we please stop trying to find someone to blame, and just find a way to correct this?"

Most of the Brotherhood looked guilty at that. Hawking had spent more time with Spectre than any of them; Hawking had suffered more from seeing the boy's pain than any of them.

Tobor merely looked on, feigning boredom to hide his pleasure.

"He can't be a Guardian," Harlan said, finally daring to voice what they all feared. "We can't afford to let him keep his power. His connection to the Emerald."

"And how do you plan to correct that?" Jordan asked, his voice becoming dangerous. "Spectre's connection is stronger than any of ours. He _depends_ on that power to survive." Tobor continued to feign disinterest, but _this_ topic held promise. "Exactly how did you plan on taking that away? _Without_ killing him, grandfather?"

Harlan looked down. "I don't know," he whispered.

Tobor listened closely, hoping that Harlan would make some suggestion, when he felt something buzzing in his pocket.

He walked into another room, and muttered a few choice curses before picking up the radio.

"What?" he snarled. Only his unwitting minions contacted him at this frequency. What could one of them want now?

"I am sorry to bother you, Guardian," the chameleon said, with apparent regret in his voice, "but I believe we need to talk."

—

Tobor disappeared over the next few days, and did not return before the Constable called.

"Could...could Deo Volente come in to see the Lady Jani-Ca for a time?" the Constable asked. His eyes were wild, and he frequently stared over his shoulder.

"Is she doing all right, Constable?" Hawking asked.

"She seems—" The Constable looked over his shoulder again. "She seems _fine_, I just think it would be a _very good idea_ for Deo to speak with her."

Deo hopped up onto Hawking's shoulder, but the Constable held up a hand before they could move. "Just Deo, please." He tried to smile. "She wouldn't like to think the Guardians would neglect their duties for her."

Deo shivered. The _last_ time the Constable had insisted on seeing Deo alone had ended very badly for Spectre. The clan couldn't have pulled something else, could they?

But...the Constable didn't appear nervous. Bewildered, but not afraid. What was going on?

He nodded, and teleported to the hospital.

And very quickly shared the Constable's bewilderment. For in Jani-Ca's arms was a newborn echidna.

One that bore the white mark of the Guardians.

And Jani-Ca, though she smiled and fussed over the baby, did _not_ present the image of a new mother.

"Doctor," she said, after noting their bewilderment. "Could you please tell these two what you told me?"

The doctor nodded. He didn't seem at all disturbed or even surprised by her behavior, seemed even relieved by it.

"I had just left you to their, um...their interrogation, and was heading back to the lab, when I heard a baby cry. I might have thought nothing of it, except the maternity ward is on the other side of the floor, and the sound came from _inside_ the lab!"

"So naturally, you were...curious?" the Constable said, noting that the doctor's expression was as wild as his own must still be.

"_Curious_? I was _furious_. I was ready to strangle whoever let a baby in there. But when I found him on the gurney—" he gestured at the baby in Jani-Ca's arms "—where the egg had been, I thought I'd lost my mind!"

Deo frowned. "You said this happened...just after you left us to speak to Jani-Ca?" The doctor nodded. "That was a few days ago."

"Right," the doctor replied. "Once the staff confirmed I wasn't hallucinating—or maybe all of us _were_—I ordered some tests. I wanted to be sure everything was fine before we gave the Lady the news. We don't know how he survived, and I...I didn't want her to get her hopes up..."

"That's understandable," Jani-Ca whispered. "You wouldn't want to tell me my son survived only to have him die again, would you?"

"I've looked over all the tests," the doctor continued, flashing her a look of gratitude. "He's checked out fine. _Quite_ well, for being taken out more than a month early." He ran his hands through his hair. The state of his hair suggested that he'd hardly _stopped_ doing that over the last few days. "If I hadn't performed the operation myself, I'd have thought he was carried full term."

The doctor soon left them to visit, muttering something about needing more tests.

After the doctor had gone, Deo hopped up onto the bed to investigate the child.

The baby boy flailed out a hand towards him.

"No, little one, you don't want him," she whispered, grabbing the baby's hand. "You might want to stay out of reach," she said to Deo. "I hear babies learn about their world by putting things in their mouths."

Deo blanched and immediately hopped up onto her shoulder.

"So what's his name?" the Constable asked.

"Well, I was _hoping_ to discuss it with his _father_," Jani-Ca replied with a pointed look at Deo.

"You know why we can't do that," Deo muttered.

She nodded. "But I was thinking 'Sojourner.'"

Deo peered up at her. "Not a bad name, but why?"

"Because he is one," she replied. "He's already quite the traveler. Yes, little one, you've had _such_ a long journey, haven't you?" Her smile turned cold. "All the way from the Dragon Kingdom."

"Dragon Kingdom?" the Constable mouthed.

Deo froze. "What do you—" He stared at Jani-Ca. "He's not yours, is he?" he whispered, though he knew the answer.

"Oh, think about that, will you?" she replied. "My egg was _dead_, cut out of me more than a month before my time. And he shows up three days later, healthy as can be, and as well-formed as if I'd carried him full term? _Please_." She snorted. "I _prefer_ to believe in miracles that are a little less obvious, and maybe involve a little _faith_." She cocked her head. "Though I am open to Spectre recovering as though nothing ever happened."

"Aren't we all," the Constable muttered.

"The Dragon Kingdom—" Deo muttered. His eyes widened. "The Shinobi? He's _Kancho's_ son?"

Jani-Ca chuckled. "I was wondering how long that would take you."

The fire ant's mouth hung open.

The Constable cleared his throat. "Then why...why is he here?"

"I don't know," Jani-Ca replied. "But you're going to ask them that, aren't you? The next time one of your informants shows up?"

The Constable stared at the child. "Y—yes, Lady."

"And when you do," she continued, her voice down to a deadly whisper, "make sure you ask them what the _hell_ kind of game they think they're playing."

He sighed. "Yes, Lady."


	10. Informant

**I own Jani-Ca, the Constable, and quasi-anonymous characters. And various members of the flashback.**

**I may rewrite that flashback eventually, maybe as a side-story the way I did Liaison. But for now, it's just a flashback.  
**

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, the doctors continued to run tests on Jani-Ca and Sojourner alike.

Until, finally, they agreed that the pair was ready to go home.

Home to one of the centers the Council had given them, home to the crew, who fussed over the baby.

Some of the Brotherhood visited to look in on her and the baby. If Tobor was among them, he never came in. Jani-Ca didn't care; the crew resented him, and would have refused him if he'd tried to visit.

Sojourner was a year old before his father was allowed to come home. But when he arrived, he was changed.

Subdued. He barely touched her, or his son. When he did, he was so careful that she wanted to scream. Hawking told her that new fathers were often so nervous, and she didn't expect Spectre to be reckless with his son, but this was _ridiculous_!

A week after he'd returned, she'd asked one of the crew to put Sojourner to bed, so she could have Spectre alone for the night. She pushed him into a chair and wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself closer to him, kissing him deeply.

He returned the kiss with as much passion as she gave...but he firmly kept his hands to himself.

Even when he had relaxed enough to make love to her, he was clumsy, awkward. The passion...was gone.

When she tried to speak to him about it, he suggested that one of the crew might satisfy her better. She took him at his word, but the crew quickly proved him wrong. For they were afraid of him; not one dared to touch Spectre's wife, not even with permission to do so.

And it was no wonder. She'd been watching the news. She'd seen what kind of displays Spectre had done since the Brotherhood let him return to his duties. The passion their marriage had lost was in great evidence in these attacks. If she didn't know how much he loved her, didn't see just how afraid he was to be with her or his son, how afraid he was that he could hurt them, she would be as terrified as his enemies.

Three weeks after he'd returned, they were just laying down for another attempt, when she heard a knock on the door.

She growled, but she got up and yanked the door open, not even bothering to throw a robe on.

And found herself facing the Constable.

"I—I—um," he stammered. He stared at her.

"Getting an eyeful?" she asked, leaning into the doorframe. His eyes widened as they followed her shape.

Jani-Ca flicked her gaze down, then back at his face. She lifted an eyebrow.

He swallowed. He realized what she'd just seen, and his face turned redder than his fur.

"You want her?" Spectre asked from the bed. "You can have her, if she wants. You can probably do better with her than I can." He hung his head. "Couldn't possibly do any _worse_," he muttered.

The Constable's face turned even redder, and he pointedly looked away.

Jani-Ca frowned. The Constable's embarrassment would have been cute, and she might have tried convincing him to take Spectre up on the offer...if her husband wasn't being so damn _serious_ about it.

She finally took pity on the poor man and put a robe on. "Oh, go sit down," she snapped, guiding him back to the living room.

Spectre followed, with Deo on his shoulder.

"So about that offer—" Jani-Ca said to her husband, flicking a finger in the Constable's direction. "Tell me you weren't being serious."

"You need someone who isn't afraid to touch you," Spectre whispered.

"Gods be damned, I'm not a piece of _china_! I'm not going to shatter if you look at me, show your feelings once in a while."

Spectre sank into the couch, looking completely miserable.

"So how are you two doing?" the Constable managed to ask. Jani-Ca gave him a look, one that suggested he might be dense. "Right," he mumbled. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be relieved about that, or worried."

"Why?" Jani-Ca asked.

The Constable flicked his gaze to Spectre, but the Guardian pointedly ignored them. "Well, considering the way he's been behaving everywhere else lately... I was half expecting I'd see you a mess of bruises. Or worse."

Jani-Ca closed her eyes. Spectre had never raised a hand to her, even before that accident. He was _terrified_ of touching her now. But she had seen the news. She could not deny the Constable's fear.

"But I suppose you didn't come to talk about my love life," Jani-Ca said.

"N—no," the Constable stammered. "We—we've had an anonymous tip about what _might_ be wrong with—" He flicked his eyes to Spectre again, and he cleared his throat. "That is, we think we have an idea what might have happened."

"Our tipster gave us a file," Deo continued, "that gave us the structure of a very unusual plant. One that he said only grew in the Dragon Kingdom. And this plant matched an unknown chemical that the doctors had found in your system."

Jani-Ca glared at him. "And this has _what_ to do with my husband?"

"Patience, Lady, I'm getting to that," Deo replied. "The tipster informed us that the chemical from this plant has a rather...unusual effect when exposed to certain types of energy. On its own, it was perfectly harmless. But when you were exposed to the Chaos Energy, it became very much like a poison."

"We believe this 'poison' is the reason you did not recover as quickly," the Constable added, "when your dingoes were running around in a matter of hours. And why—" He glanced towards Sojourner's room and gave Jani-Ca a meaningful look.

She nodded. The Guardians all operated under the same assumption the doctors were; nobody had told _them_ that Sojourner was not her son. They were certainly not about to tell _Spectre_ that he had killed her unborn child.

She sat up straighter. "Then...then it was all an accident, right? Spectre _hadn't_ put us in danger."

"No, not exactly," Deo replied. "After reviewing the effects of this chemical, we believe that Spectre had reacted in a way that was perfectly natural, that he had _not_ unleashed a dangerous amount of power. Harmful, yes, so perhaps he had overreacted, but certainly not lethal."

"Well, there you go, then," she said, giving Spectre a triumphant grin.

He only sank down further.

"Spectre, it was an _accident_," she repeated. "You couldn't have known I was infected with this...whatever it was. You couldn't have known your power would have that effect on it. It _wasn't_ your fault! You're not dangerous, you're not a criminal, and you're not _crazy_!"

"Why don't you tell her the rest?" Spectre mumbled.

Deo and the Constable looked around uncomfortably, but before they could speak, Spectre looked up. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at an empty corner. He started to shake.

"I think...I think I'm going to go lay down," he mumbled, and wandered off, casting frequent glances back at that corner as he went.

"And that would be our tipster," the Constable muttered.

"I'm sorry," a voice said from the corner. A young chameleon appeared where Spectre had been staring. "If I'd known the exile hurt him _that_ bad," he said, "I wouldn't have tried sneaking in."

Jani-Ca jumped. "He can still see you? I thought...I thought Kancho's father—"

The chameleon shook his head. "Guardian Spectre's been over-sensitive since the fire, ma'am," he said. "He's always been able to see us since. Can't make him stop short of blinding him. The exile only made him think it's his brain seeing us, instead of his eyes." He sighed. "Would you mind, ma'am, if I explained in order? I didn't tell them everything, but I'm thinking maybe it'd help you understand the Guardian's condition better."

Jani-Ca nodded. "However you feel is necessary."

—

**FLASHBACK**

The Exile was mad at the Guardian; why _wouldn't_ he be? He was Kancho's father, and the Guardian had been overstepping his boundaries, both of them ignoring our traditions, for months.

But when some of my people followed the Exile, they had no idea what he planned to do about it.

And they had no power to stop him, or correct it after.

My people reported the incident to the Bride of Constant Vigil. She called the Exile up and shamed him in front of the entire clan. She told him he'd had no right to do that to anyone, no right to use our traditions as an _excuse_ to touch someone's memories, especially as the Guardian had suffered so much already.

The Exile insisted that the Guardian had agreed to it, that the spell wouldn't have worked, else.

She told him that she didn't care a scale how he'd gotten around the rules, it didn't hold with her 'cause he hadn't bothered to tell the Guardian _what_ he was agreeing to.

Unfortunately, all she _could_ do was tell him off. See, the Voices are like a clan of their own. They get their power from the gods; only a Voice would have the power to remove the spell, and the Bride didn't have the authority to even order him to do it, nor to tell his daughter to.

So she had us keep a closer eye on the Guardian, to see how badly the spell had affected him, but otherwise we tried to keep out of his way. And we thought that was the end of it.

Until the Exile discovered that Kancho was pregnant with the Guardian's child.

The Bride took her in before he could do anything, but when he demanded his daughter be returned to his care, the Bride had no choice but to relent, or to send the clan into a civil war.

Until he made his last mistake. He insisted that his daughter and the Guardian should have _nothing_ of each other, and demanded that the baby be cut from her and destroyed.

The clan was furious, ready to go to war to defy him. Even the enemy clans were willing to join us. Children are _sacred_ to the gods; our other traditions are nothing to that. But the Bride had a better idea.

"You are not the Voice of this clan," the Bride told the Exile. "You do not speak for the gods."

She couldn't _really_ take away his magic, but those words had stripped him of every right he had with the clan. Even the right to speak for his own student, his own daughter. All without needing a war.

She kept Kancho in her care until the egg was laid, and we heard what happened with your own.

And she gave the Exile one chance to redeem himself: to bring the child you call Sojourner, to exchange him with your egg so that the Guardian would still have his heir.

Kancho went along, supposedly because she was the best hacker; the Bride wanted the records changed so the Guardians wouldn't realize the exchange had happened.

But I think the Bride wanted to give Kancho more time to say goodbye to her son, and maybe the chance to see Spectre again, to try to undo the spell the Exile had cast.

Kancho and the Exile came in with the baby. I...I didn't actually watch them make the switch. I only know that Kancho had laid the baby down, and the Exile had looked up the file on their computer.

I'd taken the egg and began to place it inside my pack, so I didn't get to see what he was looking at.

The Exile started swearing; I'm not sure why I didn't notice that before, but I suppose he's always been angry about something or other. It just wasn't unexpected. But Kancho looked at the screen, and she looked spooked about something.

I asked them what was wrong.

"You're both taking too long, that's what," the Exile snarled. He continued to stare at the screen. "Don't bother with that trash. The hospital must have an incinerator or something, to dispose of contaminants."

"Dispose...?" I stared at him. _Destroy_ the egg?

He laughed. "The egg's _dead_, boy. What do you think you're destroying?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, and took the egg out.

After I had left them, though, I hid myself to think about his order. We had made the switch only so the Guardian could have his heir, and keep the child out of the Exile's hands, at that. What need _was_ there to keep a dead egg? But something inside me continued to argue.

And while I waited, I heard him speaking to someone. No, not to Kancho. I heard a radio. I heard him address someone as a Guardian, said that they needed to talk.

He argued with the Guardian, said something about using flowers to control Spectre. I suppose they agreed to meet somewhere, because he listed off some address.

I didn't wait to hear more; I took the egg and met with other agents. I told _them_ what I'd heard the Exile saying, and they agreed to look into this meeting while I brought the egg back to the clan.

The clan examined the egg, and found it infected from the flowers. The flowers we harvest for the _Voices_ to use. _Nobody_ else uses them, and we keep careful track of every harvest. No harvest was missing, but those flowers are what killed the egg.

And what nearly killed you, ma'am.

We figured you must have been infected somehow. And since these flowers work on _energy_, on _magic_, they got in, and infected your aura. We put that with what we knew of...of the attack, and we figured, when Guardian Spectre pulled his power back, that he must have infected himself, too. And that he'd keep on infecting himself, every time he even touches that power. That's why it's been affecting him that way.

Problem is, that's about _all_ we know. Only Kancho would know how to siphon off the extra power, so Spectre wouldn't hurt himself worse.

And only a Voice would know enough to use the flowers right, let alone to cure the infection, if it's possible.

**END FLASHBACK**

—

The chameleon carefully did not look at them.

"He'd already told us about the flowers," the Constable told Jani-Ca. "And how they must have infected Guardian Spectre."

Deo nodded. "He wasn't insane," he said, "not then. But this infection has gotten into his mind. _That's_ what we found in his brainwaves. And every time he uses his power, every time he so much as touches it, it eats at him just a little more." He sighed, and glanced towards the bedroom. "And he knows it, too."

"Every—?" Jani-Ca stared at him. "He depends on that power to survive. He can't just..._not_ use it." Her eyes widened. "Then he...he _is_...going mad?"

Deo nodded.

She shook her head. "You said _Kancho_ could cure him," she asked the chameleon. "Right?"

"_If_ anyone could," the chameleon corrected. "None but the Voices would know if it's possible." He stared at the floor, waiting for her to ask the obvious question.

"And if her father...your _Exile_...has no say in what she does anymore, I'm sure she'd try to help." She stared hard at the chameleon, practically daring him to contradict her.

"She would...if she could."

Deo frowned. "_If_ she could? Doesn't she know if she can? Or do your _traditions_—"

The chameleon shrugged. "Nobody's seen her since."

Deo stopped mid-rant.

The Constable narrowed his eyes. "What about this _meeting_ your Exile set up with the Guardian? Do you happen to know which Guardian it was?"

_None of the Guardians went off to meet with him,_ Deo thought at the Constable. _Spectre's the only one who ever even_ knew _about the chameleons._ The Constable nodded. Either the young Shinobi was lying, or something was very, _very_ wrong.

The chameleon shook his head. "I never heard the Exile say. And the agents who checked up on it said there was only a few echidnas there. That thug Joshua, some new guy called himself Luger, a few others. And one of your deputies watching the whole thing." He pretended not to notice that the Constable's eyes had narrowed down to mere slits. "But no Guardian, and no Exile. One of my agents tried to follow Luger and his people, but they vanished into some dark portal." He swallowed. "_Nobody's_ seen hide nor scale of Kancho or the Exile since the switch."

**

* * *

**

**Why the lack of a robe is a big deal, I have no idea. I mean, so many Mobians hardly wear anything, anyway, right? Seems like clothing is more a matter of personal choice of style or dealing with the elements, rather than a standard of society. (Which makes me wonder about that scene in Sonic Universe #16. Just where **_**was**_** that birthmark?)  
But it was either that, or have the Constable walk in on them in the middle of it. And...well...**

**Oh, look, I made him blush again!**

**Speaking of which, there's a story that's absolutely refused to let me go since writing that. So we have "Liaison," an M rated rewrite of next chapter's section 1.  
**


	11. Facing the Legion

**I own Jani-Ca and crew, the Constable(s), and quasi-anonymous characters. Everyone else belongs to Archie, Sega, et cetera.  
**

**One of the sections was (slightly) revised to account for a later change in Jani-Ca's role and the addition of canon wife Kali-Ka (as mentioned in my newer one-shot Nightmare Spectre. The plot remains as is-I just threw in a minor reference to allow Kali to speak a line I'd previously given to one of Jani-Ca's dingoes.  
A similar, and similarly minor, change occurs in the short fic Uneasy Alliances.**

* * *

The Constable sent his deputies off to learn what they could of Joshua and his dealings. Meanwhile, he investigated the activities of those very deputies.

There was still the possibility that the chameleon was lying, or was simply mistaken. But he couldn't take that chance. _Something_ was going on, and he had to know if his own people really were involved.

The reports he sent to Jani-Ca were sporadic. Sometimes she'd hear back every day, sometimes it was a week later.

He noted that Spectre was never around when he came. The Guardian's absence was certainly useful; there were still too many things they could not tell him, and more such details piled up every day. But it bothered him when Jani-Ca said that Spectre was almost never around anymore.

The reports gave her what the Constable had managed to dig up, which was never much; even if he wasn't concerned about being overheard, there was simply very little to report. He didn't dare let on to his deputies that he even _was_ investigating them, nor let that investigation take priority over his normal work.

Nearly three months went by before she received another note, one suggesting he had found something of interest.

And three days later, one of his deputies reported him dead.

Murdered, but without a mark to show how. His death left even the chameleons mystified.

But the fire ants detected an aura of chaos energy around his body. And the deputies had heard reports of a cloaked figure lurking around.

They were determined that the information should _not_ leak until it could be properly investigated. And the crew tried to protect Jani-Ca and Spectre from this new development.

But in spite of their caution, the rumors began to fly.

—

Jani-Ca paced back and forth, shooting Deo an angry glare every so often. She pointedly ignored the Brotherhood.

Hawking cleared his throat. "Jani-Ca, we have to consider—"

"_No_!" she snarled, whirling to face him. "The Constable was our friend. Spectre would _never_ have hurt him!"

_Any sane man would want to strangle him for taking advantage of you,_ Deo replied. _Any one of the Brotherhood would have done it, if you'd have let me tell them._

_How many times do I have to tell you, he did_ not _take advantage of me! The interest was mutual. Listen to the rumors, once in a while; I'm supposed to be a_ seductress_, remember? If anything,_ I _took advantage of_ him_!_

But the fire ant clearly still refused to believe her. _Of course, no sane man would have given him_ permission _in the first place,_ he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted.

The Brotherhood continued to look around uncomfortably, completely unaware of the repeated argument. Hawking flicked his gaze to Spectre, but the young Guardian stared off into empty space with an intent look on his face.

Hawking tried to hide a shudder. His grandson wasn't looking at anything; he was simply trying to ignore them, that was all.

Spectre wasn't looking at anything in that empty space, just like he hadn't been spooked by nothing at odd moments over the last few years, hadn't been talking to nonexistent voices, hadn't been...

Hawking shuddered again. "Jani-Ca, we _know_ he's going mad. And if we let our discomfort get in the way, if we _don't_ put an effort into seeing just how bad things have gotten, all we'll do is let them become worse."

She snorted. "Sorry. I've already heard _that_ line from Deo."

"And you'll _keep_ hearing it," Deo said, "until it sinks in."

"I don't believe that Spectre would have done it, either," Harlan added. He avoided meeting her eyes when he said it. "But how do you think it will look if we _don't_ try to investigate?" He put his hands on her shoulders, casting a nervous glance at Spectre as he did so, and forced her to face him. "The city is calling for his blood again. Do you _want_ them to believe that we are only covering up for him?"

She jerked free. "Awful funny you should be talking about cover-ups," she snarled.

"Why's that?" Spectre asked, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. The various members of the Brotherhood jumped. "What's so funny about a cover-up?"

"I was just thinking, every time something bad happens to you, every time something happens that could look bad, only a few people knew about it, right?"

"I don't follow—" Harlan began.

She waved him into silence. "Like Spectre's power during the fire." Spectre eyed her for a moment, then turned his attention back to empty space. "Or the _accident_ before Sojourner was born. Or this." She looked around at the Brotherhood, catching each one's gaze before moving on to the next. "Every time, only a handful of people knew what had happened, even _suspect_ what happened. And those handfuls swore never to utter one syllable of what they knew, not even to the rest of the Brotherhood, because...why?"

"Because we didn't _understand_ what had happened," Rembrandt snapped. "We didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea _before_ we could investigate."

She lifted an eyebrow at him, and waited.

He blinked twice. Then his eyes widened, and his mouth formed an "o."

She nodded. "And yet, not too long after, rumors start spreading. Rumors that maybe don't _quite_ match what happened. Different enough that we could assume the people don't really know." She folded her arms and stared at them. "A coincidence, maybe..._if_ it happened once or twice. But these rumors sound awfully similar to the truth, don't you think? And so _many_ rumors? About so many things? And all of them just _happen_ to do their damnedest to make _Spectre_ look bad?"

She scowled at their reactions; judging from the way they looked at each other, the Brotherhood had never even _considered_ this angle. Even Spectre appeared surprised.

How could such intelligent people as the Brotherhood be so _dense_?

_Comes from being treated near like royalty,_ she decided. _And being cooped up in Haven so much._ Distant _watchers, that's what they are. Maybe they know how stupid people are in mobs, and they can figure out the tyrants pretty well. But they're not used to the weaker individuals, the_ smarter _villains. They're not used to the ones with the pretty speeches, or the ones that hide_ behind _the mob._

She shivered. She had lost good people over the years to that sort, to greedy people, people who only wanted power. People with all the charisma of a good leader and none of the morals, or those who "accidentally" let slip just the right details...or the wrong ones.

People who knew _exactly_ how to get what they wanted, and keep their hands clean while they were at it. Oh, yes, she had _enjoyed_ helping the EST figure out _that_ sort.

One of her greatest fears had always been that her crew would be accused of being that sort. But if such rumors had spread, word had never reached her.

And that only worried her more.

"Spectre's _illness_ is a serious medical problem," she admitted, pushing that fear to the side for now, "so I'll not stand in your way of that. But if you really want to help him, I'd suggest you stop _reacting_ to these rumors, and start looking for where they're coming from."

—

There was still bad feeling in the city, and even the new Constable made no secret of his dislike for Spectre.

The dissenters quieted down, at least towards the other Guardians, and there was little fear of riots, but Spectre did not dare to walk the streets again. He confined himself to the Floating Island, not even visiting the city or Haven to help train his son.

Not that he _could_ train Sojourner, not with the power affecting him the way it did.

They could not rely on Tobor for the task, and the rest of the Brotherhood was growing too old.

So the Fire Ants took it upon themselves to train the new Guardian, just as they had done long ago with Steppenwolf, while Spectre and Jani-Ca kept a close eye on them, hoping for something, _anything_ that might present a solution.

This continued until Sojourner was eight, and might have continued longer.

Until the Dark Legion appeared.

—

"Daddy, please don't go!" Sojourner cried.

Spectre crouched down to face his son. "I have to," he said. "I have to help the others fight."

"But...but I don't want you to become _mean_, like Grandpa," Sojourner said. He clung to his father, buried his face in Spectre's chest, trying to hide his tears.

Jani-Ca's eyebrows shot up.

Spectre blinked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Grandpa changed," Sojourner explained. "Deo said he changed after he fought the Legion. I don't want you to change like he did! He's _mean_ to you! Daddy, _please_! I don't want you to be like him!"

Spectre's mouth hung open; he could not think of any way to respond. _He's mistaken; he doesn't know what I've done, who I've hurt, he only knows Father's anger. He's too young to understand how much I_ deserve _that anger, and worse._

But self-pity would not solve _this_ problem. "Son," he whispered, forcing Sojourner to look at him, "that will never happen. I will not...become like him." He wiped at the boy's tears.

Sojourner sniffed. "P—promise?"

Spectre hesitated; did he dare promise that? When nobody could tell him why it happened in the first place?

_You know perfectly well why it happened,_ Steppenwolf snapped. _We've only told you about four thousand times in the last_ three weeks_!_

_You_ won't _let it happen again,_ Moonwatcher snarled.

_And neither will we,_ the child, Aaron, added more gently.

Spectre flinched, and forced himself not to turn around to face them. He didn't need this, not now, not in front of his son! The voices, the images, that had whispered into his mind since the fire, all of them Guardians that had passed; they had barely gave him a moment's peace since he'd become infected.

And the things they kept saying, about him, about his father. That name they kept repeating. Moritori Rex. Why couldn't they just be _silent_?

Steppenwolf groaned and rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off a migraine. Spectre had been trying his patience with this hallucination nonsense, every day since the fire, and the elder _desperately_ wanted to pound some sense into him. He wouldn't be surprised if Spectre would feel it, either, but he knew it wouldn't make anyone feel better but himself.

And given the young Guardian's more recent condition, it might make things a lot worse. No, no sense adding to the lad's suffering, not when it could only _help_ that imposter.

"Spectre?" Deo said, warily. "Spectre, is everything all right?" The young Guardian had refused to breathe a word of this, for fear of how his elders might react. But they had come to recognize that expression, just the same.

Spectre was hearing voices again, or seeing things that weren't there. It wasn't the chameleons, either; the fire ants had grown accustomed to _their_ presence, and Kancho had taught them long ago how to detect when one was about, just as the clan had been teaching each Constable in his or her turn.

Spectre was always spooked when these hallucinations happened. And when he was spooked, his behavior could be...unpredictable. _More_ unpredictable.

"Our son just asked you a question," Jani-Ca said, placing a hand on Spectre's shoulder, and making Deo even more nervous. "Were you going to answer him?"

Spectre blinked, and looked at them, only now becoming aware that he was frightening them. "I—I'm sorry. I'll be fine." He cupped Sojourner's chin and forced the child to look at him again. "I _promise_."

He tried to give the boy to Jani-Ca, but Sojourner only tightened his grip.

"Hey," Jani-Ca said, putting her other hand on Sojourner's shoulder. "You know that game you and Fidelis came up with? I bet daddy would really love to see it when he's back." Spectre nodded.

"O—okay," Sojourner whispered, before releasing his father and letting Jani-Ca take him back.

—

Tobor tapped his foot, watching through the forest and snarling. The Legion was not attacking like they should; they were taking only small bites, forcing the opposition to its knees, and pulling back before they could claim victory.

And they'd been moving like that for eight days.

Why?

What was Luger _waiting_ for?

Tobor didn't dare find out; though the rest of the Brotherhood thought to give him space to "recover," that spook seemed unnaturally suspicious of late. And it would be just his luck that someone would catch _him_ while watching the spook.

He growled.

"What could they be waiting for?" Jordan said when the Brotherhood gathered again. "Not that I mind the breathing room, but it doesn't seem natural. Like they're planning something, far worse than simple defeat."

Harlan nodded. "It isn't as though we could defeat them _now_, not with two of our number..." He glanced around the room, then snapped his mouth shut on the thought.

Tobor was fuming, and Spectre had that odd expression that suggested he was seeing things again.

"What if they are not planning something...else?" Spectre said, his eyes continuing to stare at nothing while Aaron whispered into his mind. "What if something has simply weakened them? Something that they could never have arranged for in the Twilight Zone. Something that prevents them from pressing their advantage."

"Like what?" Rembrandt asked. "The Floating Island may be dangerous to the unprepared, but I hardly think it would present _that_ much of a problem—"

Spectre shook his head. How could he tell them what the voices said, about the woman's sickness, without revealing where this information came from?

"I'm not certain," he finally replied, settling on something that might be close enough. "I was only thinking—when I confined myself to the Island, even though I had been there before, I found myself assailed by illnesses that I had never been exposed to. Illnesses that plagued me, or Jani-Ca, though my son found them merely inconvenient." He shrugged. "Granted, my health is not what it should be, so it would be far easier for me to catch sick than most others, but..."

Rembrandt nodded. "They had never been long in our zone since Menniker's time, and they had been confined to the Twilight Zone for a long time since then. They _haven't_ had the exposure to the Island that we have."

"Do you honestly believe they would hold back because they were _sick_?" Tobor asked mildly. Inside he was enraged. _Damn that spook!_ All his preparations, and that was one thing Tobor had had no control over.

But the Brotherhood hadn't suspected then, and they shouldn't suspect now. No matter that the spook watched him so closely; the Brotherhood saw _him_ for a madman. Surely they would not wonder about it now, not when Tobor had been so badly injured after his "encounter" with the Legion. Surely that would be reason enough...?

Hawking leaned back and frowned. "I would think you and Spectre would _both_ understand how devastating a sickness could be."

"The better question, I would think," Mathias said, "is how do we find out? And how do we _use_ that if that is the case?"

—

Spectre walked up to the podium. He stared at the crowd, more nervous than he cared to admit. It was the first time he'd been to the city in what seemed like ages. And the people still did not trust him.

But there were more important things than his fear. Jani-Ca's crew had been busy since the Legion invaded three weeks ago. She had been helping care for those who could not fight, and was famous for her ability to charm the people, to pull even the most despairing back into hopefulness.

And now...

Now, it was only appropriate that her husband should support her on one of the most important days of her life.

He opened his mouth to address the people.

"It is my conviction that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert defeat into victory."

He scanned the crowd, willing his voice to hold the very hope, the very belief they needed.

"In every dark hour of our society, a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential in achieving the desired goal. I am convinced that you will again give that support to the leadership in these critical days."

He paused, waiting their reaction. He tried to tell himself he was not afraid. Even with everything that had happened, surely not _everyone_ feared the Guardians! Not now, not when they had a _real_ enemy to face.

He needn't have worried. There were many who still questioned the Guardians, and even the new Constable still distrusted _him_. But not one person, echidna, dingo, or otherwise, was unaffected; the crowd broke into cheers and applause.

He smiled. "And now, citizens of Echidnaopolis," he said, finishing up, "let me present to you, your new High Councilor!" He sat down, and gestured for his wife to take the podium.

"_Thank_ you," Jani-Ca said, though she gave him an odd look before she stepped up to the microphone. "Well, how do you like that? I had rehearsed a speech to give you on _my_ inauguration, I had finally worked myself up to it—and since public speaking was never my strong suit, you _know_ that's a miracle by itself." But the people had come to know her well too well to buy that line, and she heard snickering from among her crew.

She turned to give Spectre that look again. "And my _husband_ shows me up."

Nervous chuckles scattered throughout the crowd.

Jani-Ca sighed. "It was such a lovely speech, too. Okay, _I_ wrote it, so maybe I'm a little biased, but I thought it was one of the best speeches in the history of public speaking." She grinned, and more startled chuckles sounded from the gathering. She took on a dramatic pose. "I was all prepared to talk about working together, and struggling in the face of adversity, and—oh! so many things. It was meant to be uplifting, moving, tear-jerking, inspiring—"

The crew had to struggle harder to keep from laughing.

"What do you expect?" one of her newer strays shouted. "You married a _Guardian_!" The whole crowd broke out laughing.

Spectre sat up just a little straighter. Jani-Ca flicked her eyes to him, then back to the crowd. His reaction hadn't been much-it would've been nothing had it been anyone else-but it was an encouraging change from his normally somber nature.

Jani-Ca grinned, and waited for the laughter to die down before she spoke again. "Exactly," she replied. She scanned the crowd for the woman who'd spoken, and met Kali-Ka's gaze only briefly. "You _do_ understand. You can hardly expect me to follow _that_ act, now, can you? None of us 'mere mortals' can. So what say we skip the pretty speeches, and I'll tell you just what I'd like you to do..."

—

Sojourner crept around in the forest, keeping an eye out for watchers. He was not worried about the Legion catching him. But he was absolutely _terrified_ that his parents would find out.

_They'd ground me until my_ grandchildren _were old and gone if they knew I was out here._

He nudged his power into his room, checking up on his project.

_Perfect._ The plants he'd been studying back home thrived quite well on his energy. He shouldn't even need those emerald shards Mother had given him anymore; the plants should be enough to convince anyone he was still there.

He suppressed the rest of his power, leaving only enough to let him sense his surroundings. It was risky; the fire ants were the ones to teach him that, and they _might_ sense that their lesson was in use. And even the Legion might be able to detect it.

But he'd have to take the chance. It was either that, or give _them_ the chance to hurt his father, change him like they'd changed grandfather.

He curled his lip at what he felt; the cybernetics didn't bother him, and some of the Legionnaires had quite pleasant minds, but the minds of some of the others... He suppressed a shudder.

He crept a little closer to the camp, and frowned. _Something_ felt...wrong. Not wrong like their minds. Wrong like his own parents, like the sicknesses even he had to deal with now and again.

Perfectly normal for most people, but out of place in the Legion. Their cybernetics enhanced them, enhanced even their _health_. And this sickness...

Was doing far more damage than it should have.

He cast out his power in search of the wrongness. Sure enough, one of them was sick. Maybe about his mother's age, _recently_ strong, but fading fast.

_But is that good for us, or bad?_ he wondered.

He crept into the camp to find out.

—

Marin-Da woke from a fevered sleep to see someone leaning over her. _Just another dream,_ she decided.

But the figure had seen her open her eyes, and he clapped a hand over her mouth before she could make a sound.

A startled squeak escaped before she recognized that she was fully awake. "What do you want?" she managed past the intruder's hand.

He held up a hand for silence, and closed his eyes.

She frowned, trying to examine him from her position. He sat next to her bed, and nothing more; other than covering her mouth, he hadn't moved since she'd awakened. What...?

She blinked, then realized that the intruder was quite small. A _child_?

She felt something brush against her mind, and then the intruder opened his eyes and looked at her.

He removed his hand so she could sit up. "How long have you been ill?" he whispered.

_What business is that of yours?_ she thought. She opened her mouth to reply—

_Plenty business,_ he thought back, startling another squeak out of her. _If you hope to get better._

She stared at him. _How did he...?_ He got up to look outside the tent. When he sat back down again, she saw it. The collar ring. "You're a Guardian," she whispered.

It wasn't a question, but he nodded. "In training," he whispered back.

She took another look at him, and frowned. He _was_ a child; he couldn't even be as old as her twins. What was he doing here? In his enemy's camp?

"A little over three weeks," she finally admitted.

"_This_ sick?"

"Yes...no. No, just...tired at first." She blinked. Why was she telling him this? She shook her head. "The next morning, I started to feel...hot. Like I had a fever. And..." She shrugged.

"And you've told no one?" he asked, alarmed. "You've let it go this long without treatment?"

"The Legion has been...busy," she replied, feeling a wave of guilt. _Busy fighting your people._ "I didn't think it was bad enough to bother them. And I doubted any of the locals would be inclined to help out."

"Miss... I'm sorry, there's no nice way to say this, but...you're dying." He shook his head. "I don't know why; it _shouldn't_ be that bad. I've seen people get this virus all the time; it isn't common, but it isn't _dangerous_, either! My friends have had it, and all they had to show for it was a couple of days laid up in bed. But it...it's killing _you_."

Her eyes widened. "Actually, that makes a lot of sense."

"It does?"

She nodded. "This virus...you'd probably been exposed to it as..." She shook her head. _As a kid_, she'd been about to say. "Your people had dealt with it for long enough," she said, neither of them aware that she echoed Spectre's own thoughts. "Your bodies have adapted over time to learn how to fight it, so it _isn't_ dangerous. But the Legion has been holed up in that Zone for...well, it's only been about fifty years or so for us, but if the virus doesn't exist in our Zone, we wouldn't have had the chance to adapt to it like you had."

He stared at her for a long while, and she could see the pain flicker across his expression. She didn't know what to make of it, or what he made of what she'd said.

Finally, he made his decision. "I'll be back soon."

—

A few hours past midnight, Luger was watching his twins help with the patrol.

The radio buzzed in his pocket.

"Yes?"

"_You are Luger?_" an unfamiliar voice asked.

He frowned. "Yes, I am. Who is this?"

"_Luger. The Grandmaster? Marin-Da's husband?_"

"Yes," Luger growled. "Who are you? _How_ did you get this frequency?"

"_You need to come back to camp,_" the voice continued. "_I need to talk to you._"

"Damn it, I _asked_ you—"

"_Marin-Da is very ill. She is trying to be strong, so maybe you didn't know that. But I must ask, is this important to you?_"

Luger's mouth hung open.

"_Is this important to you? Do you want her to feel better? Do you want to see her again...alive?_"

Luger's hand tightened around the radio; he couldn't decide whether to be angry or afraid.

"_Come back to the camp, Luger._" The voice seemed to hesitate. "_Alone, please._"

"I'll be there in half an hour," Luger snapped. "Simon! Keep an eye on them, could you? I have...other business to take care of."

He reached the camp in less than fifteen minutes. He inspected the communication pavilion first, hoping he could catch the speaker off guard.

But the only people in the tent were the Legionnaires on duty...all of them unconscious.

He pulled out his gun and tiptoed to the opening to his and Marin-Da's tent.

He reached slowly, carefully, for the flap and opened it—

"Put your hands on your head," he hissed, touching the gun to the back of the intruder's head. "And step away from my wife."

The intruder complied.

Marin-Da raised an eyebrow. "I told you he wouldn't like that 'see your wife alive' line."

"I wanted him to know it was urgent," the intruder replied. "And it got him here, didn't it?"

It was the same voice as was on the radio, but...

"You're a _kid_?" Luger said, astonished.

The intruder...the _child_...turned to face him. "She's _dying_, Luger. I don't know if you can save her, but I thought you might want the chance to _try_."

Luger blinked, too astonished to realize what the child had said. "You're a _kid_," he repeated. "Who...who are you? Do your parents know you're here?"

"No, they don't," the child replied, "and I'd like to keep it that way. My name's Sojourner."

Luger shook his head.

"Um..." Sojourner scratched his head. "You've probably heard of my father. Aurora knows Spectre's made a name for being vicious."

"Spectre—" Luger cleared his throat. "_Guardian_ Spectre?" What was this child doing here? The Guardians wouldn't resort to using a child as a spy...would they? "You're with the Guardians?"

The child nodded.

"Wait—" Luger frowned. "Guardian Spectre..._Tobor's_ son?"

Sojourner flinched, then nodded.

_Ah,_ that _Guardian. Still doesn't explain why the child's here._

Luger gestured to a chair, and folded his arms. "You were talking about Marin-Da's illness?"

Sojourner nodded, and took the invitation to sit down. He repeated the discussion he'd had with Marin-Da.

And Luger's eyes widened with every word. He looked at his wife. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were busy," she said, "and I didn't know it was that bad." She flicked her gaze to the child, and the guilt flashed across her face again.

"Boy," Luger said. "Sojourner. You also said something about making her feel better?"

Sojourner pulled off his pack and dug out the bundle of plants he'd been working with. "These are all the mature ones I've got. I...I'd been experimenting with them to help my father. He'd been burned, you see, and his medicine... Well, it helps so he doesn't hurt much, but only for a little while, and he can't always think too clearly when he's on it."

Luger inspected the bundle of plants. "And this will help?"

"I was hoping it would. It should help him think clearly, at least. And after I checked Marin-Da's symptoms, I figured it'd do the same for her."

Luger frowned. Something about what the boy had said didn't sit easily in his mind. "You said your father was burned? Recently?"

Sojourner shook his head. "When he was a child. A little younger than me. Everyone says he should've healed by now, but he hasn't. Nobody knows why."

Luger and Marin-Da exchanged alarmed looks. "Your grandfather must be quite upset," he said in a neutral tone, "that his child is in such pain."

Sojourner shook his head. "My grandmother died in that fire; I think Tobor blames my father for it."

Luger grimaced.

"As...as a _child_?" Marin-Da whispered to Luger. "Tell me he didn't!"

"I wish I could," he whispered back. "But it does seem like the kind of thing he'd do."

Sojourner looked from one to the other, as he tried to figure out what they were talking about.

Luger shook his head. "These plants..." he prompted.

"They won't _cure_ her. She's...um..." He frowned. "It's not that hot here, not to me, but it's hot enough to make it worse. She needs to be some place cold if she's to get better. And I can't even promise that. But those might be enough to make things easier for her." _And that's_ all _I can promise,_ he thought. _You won't be able to cure her; she's been here too long._

"These are your mature plants?" Luger said, hoping to shift the topic to something the boy would find more comfortable. "So you have others? Young plants, or seeds, to experiment with?"

The pain in the boy's eyes was all the answer that he needed.

"I see," Luger said, closing his eyes to hide his reaction. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly before looking at the child again. "I am in your debt, young Guardian, and that is a position I have never expected to find myself in. I will try to find a way to repay that debt. But if you think of anything I can do, please let me know."

Sojourner nodded.

—

Marin-Da waited until the boy had left before turning to face her husband. "How could you accept those from him? His _father_ needs them—"

"Not as much as you do," Luger replied. He stared at the bundle of plants.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he wouldn't have given them to us, otherwise." One corner of his mouth twitched. "Someplace cold, huh? I guess...we're going back home, then."

—

Neither the Brotherhood nor city knew what to expect when they converged on the Legion's camp.

But it wasn't what they found.

The Legion fought to defend themselves, but did not press their advantage. Instead, Luger activated a device to open the portal, and the Legion marched through without the slightest sign of resistance.

Luger was the last to go through. He sought out Tobor's gaze, and simply watched him with a smoldering anger.

And the portal closed between them.

* * *

**Well, Spectres of the Past is officially over with.**

**The Sequel, "Uneasy Alliances," takes place at least 30 years later.  
**


End file.
